<0 N < ' 

















4 Xi 









*#<&• :& 






^.,^ V : •"-> </■ 



** y >. 




^ y ^ 



-> 'i & „ C' 



-., 









o 0' 



0c> 



V, 






,9* s s * f * O 



V </» 



& y 



-.V ^ 






,0 o. 



AUTOLOGY: 

AN INDUCTIVE SYSTEM OF 

MENTAL SCIENCE; 



WHOSE CENTRE IS THE WILL, AND WHOSE 

COMPLETION IS THE PERSONALITY. 

/ 

A VINDICATION OF 

THE MANHOOD OF MAN, THE G0DH00D OF GOD, AND THE DIVINE 
AUTHORSHIP OF NATURE. 

BY 

REV. D. H. HAMILTON, D. D. 



BOSTON: 
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 

NEW YORK: 
LEE, SHEPARD, AND DILLINGHAM. 

1873. 






&$> 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, 

By D. H. HAMILTON, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



STEREOTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, 

No. 19 Spring Lane. 



PUBLISHERS' ANNOUNCEMENT. 



This system of Mental Science commends itself to attentiou from the 
following considerations : — 

1. The live question of the age and the hour is this : "God, or no 
God ? " " Theism, or atheism ? " or, in specific terms, " Is God a person, 
or only a force ? " 

2. This vital question, with those affiliated with it, the Autology meets 
and answers : it is, therefore, the book for the times. 

3. The method is inductive, and the style is at once logical and illus- 
trative : it is, therefore, a book for both the scientist and the people. 

4. The aim of the Autology is fully and forcefully expressed on the 
title-page ; viz., A Vindication of the Manhood of Man, the Godhood 
of God, and the divine Authorship of Nature. 

5. The Autology is not simply a book, but a system ; not a mere col- 
lection of essays or lectures, but a complete and unified treatise, having 
one vital principle, and one homogeneous identity and life. 

6. This work is original in that it brings out new truth, and re-states, 
re-defines, and uses old truths in such -a way that they have the force of 
nev ones. It is not, therefore, simply another volume on a known sub- 
ject, but decidedly a new system of mental science, having a distinct 
and thoroughly marked individuality. 

7. This system is original in that it sets out with the questions, 
" How can the mind begin to act ? " " How can it begin to know ? " 
the answer being, " Through the two primordial elements, essential 
activity and essential intelligence. ,, 

( iii ) 



iv PUBLISHERS' ANNOUNCEMENT. 

8. It is original in that it makes these two primordial elements the 
spiritual, vital, and dynamical forces by which the whole system of 
mental science, and the whole manhood of man, soul and body, are devel- 
oped, built up, and completed in one unity and identity ol being- and life. 

9. It is original in that it gives a new analysis of the will in its 
elements as produced by essential activity and essential intelligence show- 
ing that it thus becomes the centre and substance of the mind, in which 
all the other faculties inhere, and the sole possessor of liberty. 

10. This system furnishes a new exposition of the nature of liberty 
and of the freedom of the will, and, in particular, of the nature and act 
of choice, distinguishing liberty from alternative action, and choosing 
from selecting. 

11. The affections, the intellect, and the conscience, are set forth as 
qualities developed from the will by the ceaseless life-force and intelli- 
gence of its primordial elements, so that the faculties all hold a vital 
and dynamical relation to each other, and to the will as their essence. 

12. The affections are analyzed, defined, and classified according to a 
method not hitherto employed ; — they consist of six elemental affections 
upon which respectively are built six orders of determinate affections 
with their various classes and manifestations ; — the method is at once 
clear and natural, comprehensive and unique. 

13. The intellect is made to consist of two parts, the consciousness 
and the reason. To the consciousness belongs the function of a forma- 
tive principle, and of a knowing faculty, giving the primary facts of the 
mind's own being. To the reason belong the senses, as adjuncts, 
constituting with it but one faculty, which has the two functions of form- 
ing universal and necessary ideas from the facts of consciousness, and 
of knowing external objects by means of those ideas, and through the 
instrumentality of the senses. 

14. The whole subject of knowing is treated in a manner altogether 
peculiar to this author, — all knowing being divided into absolute know- 
ing and relative knowing. 

15. The absolute knowing of pi'imary facts is by the consciousness. 

16. The absolute knowing of ideas is by the reason. 

17. By the absolute knowing of the consciousness an exhaustive 
exploration of the subjective facts of the mind is made. 

18. From these facts are formed, by the absolute knowing of the 
reason, all universal and necessary ideas and categories, or " intuitions," 
as some writers call them. 



PUBLISHERS' ANNOUNCEMENT. v 

19. By this means it is shown that the beginning of all knowledge is 
a posteriori, and not a priori. 

20. Faith, memory, and imagination receive a new analysis. 

21. Relative knowing is by the reason, with its adjunct the senses, 
and by means of the ideas and categories formed from the facts of con- 
sciousness. 

22. In this way, the reason believes, perceives, cognizes, remembers, 
conceives, ratiocinates, imagines, invents, idealizes, and performs all the 
acts of relative knowing. 

23. The treatment of the relations of the mind to the body, of the 
mind as embodying itself, of the senses as adjuncts to the reason, and 
of the executive organs of the body, is also peculiar to this book. 

24. It is shown that the mind as naturally grows a body upon itself 
and takes it on as the body itself takes on the covering of the skin, and 
$hat the soul's bodily covering may perpetually undergo changes here- 
after as it does in this life. 

25. The conscience is the highest faculty of the mind, and is the ulti- 
mate outgrowth of all the preceding faculties. It is formed by the final 
coming together and last coalescence of the original elements of essential 
activity and essential intelligence, after they have formed all the other 
faculties, and as they crop out at the summit of the soul, completing its 
development as a competent and accountable being. 

26. The whole man, with all his faculties of body and mind, con- 
stitutes the complete personality. 

27. This personality is the first fact, and the only key to knowledge, 
the only fact of liberty, and the one and only inevitable proof of a God. 

28. By means of the faculties, facts and ideas found in his own per- 
sonality man is able to know both absolutely and the absolute. 

29. The infinite, according to this author, is found to be one with the 
absolute, and identical with the perfect ; and consequently comprehen- 
sible by man : while the finite is shown to be identical with the indefi- 
nite; and as such, beyond the reach of the human faculties. 

30. Space and time are defined as objective and finite realities, 
created with the objects which they contain and number ; and are care- 
fully distinguished from the nothingness and the merely negative possi- 
bility which are so often mistaken for them. 

31. The infinite and the absolute coalesce in the personal God, and 
exist no where else ; and he alone is absolutely infinite and infinitely 
absolute ; and that as a free, volitional, affectional, rational, and ethical 
Person. 



vi PUBLISHERS' ANNOUNCEMENT. 

32. The personal God is shown to be the true dynamics of the uni- 
verse and the ultimate fact of all science. 

33. As such, he has power to work miracles, answer prayer, and 
exeicise an overruling providence over the world, and to do all in har- 
mony with his own attributes, with the faculties of man, and with the 
laws of nature. 

34. The Critical Appendix contains an analysis of the chief works of 
leading authors in mental science and philosophy, from Thales and 
Socrates of old to Cornte and Spencer of to-day, with strictures and 
criticisms according to the principles of this book. 

35. The book is adapted to the use of the student, and the more 
advanced scholar. It will supply the wants of the minister of the 
gospel, the business man, and the general reader, and is carefully 
arranged by chapters, sections, and paragraphs as a text-book for 
schools, academies, colleges, and all seminaries of learning. 



The book will be published in one large octavo volume of 720 pages. 
Cloth. Price, $5.00. 

Sold by booksellers generally, and sent by mail, post paid, on receipt 
of price, by the publishers, 

LEE & SEIEPARD, Boston. 
LEE, SHEPARD, & DILLINGHAM, New York. 



GENERAL CONTENTS. 



PA.au 

EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION 1 



PART I. — THE WILL 15 

II. — THE AFFECTIONS .105 

III. — THE INTELLECT 267 

IV. — THE CONSCIENCE . . 605 

V. — THE PERSONALITY 641 

CRITICAL APPENDIX 698 

vii 



CONTENTS. 



EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 

PAGE 

I. — Preface 1 

II. — Subject-matter 2 

III. — Title 3 

IV. — Terminology , 5 

V. — Questions 3 

VI. — Intention 7 

VII. — Method 11 

VIII. — Criterion op a True System of Mental Science 14 



PART I. THE WILL. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE FIRST GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS TWO- 
FOLD, VIZ., HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO ACT — HOW CAN 
IT BEGIN TO KNOW? 

Sect. I. — How do the Truth and Importance of this Proposition ap- 
pear? 15 

II. — How can the Mind begin to act? 18 

III. — How can the Mind begin to know ? 21 

IV. — What is the First Object and what is the True Key of all 

Knowledge? 26 

V. — The Vital and Dynamical Process of the Mind's Development 

and Construction 29 



CHAPTER II. 

THE SECOND GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT 
IS THE SUBSTANCE OR ESSENCE OF THE MIND? 

Sect. I. — Can we know the Substance of Matter and of the Mind? . . 30 
II. — Is the Substance of the Mind the same as the Substance of 

Matter? 33 

III. — Is the Substance of the Mind distinct from the Qualities of 

the Mind? 36 

IV. — The Difference between Qualities and Faculties of the Mind. 39 
V. — The Difference between Qualities and Elements. ...... 40 

VI. — Conclusion 42 

viii 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE THIRD GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT 
IS CHOICE? 

Sect. I. — What is the Process and what are the Antecedents to 

Choice? 43 

II. — What is the Act itself of Choice? 52 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE FOURTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, 
WHAT IS THE FACULTY OF CHOICE? : 56 



CHAPTER V. 

THE FIFTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT 
IS THE POWER OF CHOICE? 

Sect. I. — The Objective or Occasional Power of Choice 58 

II. — The Subjective or Efficient Power of Choice, comprising 

the True Elements of the Will 61 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE SIXTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, WHAT 
IS THE VITAL AND DYNAMICAL CONSTRUCTION OF THE 
WILL? 

Sect. I. — Essential Activity 66 

II. — Essential Intelligence 70 

III. — Essential Individuality 73 

IV. — Essential Law 76 

V. — Essential Liberty 78 

VI. — Essential Will complete 80 



CHAPTER VII. 

WILL QUESTIONS. 

Sect. I. — The Eelation of the Self, the Will, and the Personality, 
to each other and to the essence of the mlnd, and the 
Difference between the Essence of the Mind and the Es- 
sence of Matter 82 

II. — The Relation of the Will to Liberty 83 

III. — The Relation of the Free Act of the Will, in choosing, 
to the Spontaneous and Necessary Acts of the other 
Faculties of the Mind 85 



x CONTENTS. 

Sect. IV. — Tnn Relation of Liberty to the Act of Choice 9.0 

V. — The Relation of Choice to contrary Choice 92 

VI. — The Relation of Liberty and Necessity to THE EFFICIENT 

and the Occasional Power of Choice 93 

VII. — The Difference between Selecting and Choosing 94 

VIII. — Why does the Will choose one Thing rather than another? 95 

IX. — Can THE Will BE CONTROLLED INEVITABLY) WITHOUT DESTROYING 

its Liberty? 99 

X. — Have Brutes a Will? 101 

XI. — Will -Power 102 

XII. — Conclusion 103 



PART II. THE AFFECTIONS. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE NATURE OF THE AFFECTIONS, AND THEIR RELATION 
TO THE WILL. 

Sect. I. — The Affe< mons belong to the occasional Power of Choice. 105 
II. —The Affections are the Empire of the Will 109 



CHAPTER II. 

THE ELEMENTAL AFFECTIONS. 

Sect. I. — Mutual Relations of the Elemental Affections 114 

II. — The Affections as Selfial and Selfish. — 1. Desirefdlness. 
2. Trustfulness. 3. Hopefulness. 4. Cheerfulness. 5. As- 

PIRINGNESS. G REVERENTIALNESS 115 

III. — The Elemental Affections discriminated from each other. . 117 



CHAPTER III. 

THE GENESIS OF THE DETERMINATE AFFECTIONS. . 128 

Order I. Individual Affections. II. Social Affections. III. Patriotic 
Affections. IV. Philanthropic Affections. V. ^Esthetic 
Affections. VI. Religious Affections 132 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE ORDERS OF DETERMINATE AFFECTIONS. 

Order I. — Individual Affections ►• •' • 136 

Class 1. Self-sustentative Affections 138 

2. Self-defensive Affections 142 

3. Self-acquisitive Affections 150 

4. Self-annunciative Affections. . . . . 160 

II. — Social Affections 166 

Class 1. Marital Affections 168 

2. Kindred Affections 172 

3. Annual Affections 175 

III. — Patriotic Affections 177 

Class 1. Eaceal Affections 180 

2. Local Affections.' 181 

3. Cultal Affections . 185 

4. National Affections 186 

IV. — The Philanthropic Affections 188 

Class 1. Humane Affections 190 

Manifestations. — Pity for the Suffering, the Sick, and the 
Afflicted ; Help for the Needy ; Kindness to the Undeserving- ; 
Forbearance for the Erring: Charity for all. 

2. Utile Affections 195 

Manifestations. — Home Conveniences; Social Proprieties; 
Public Spirit. 

V. ./EsTHETICAL AFFECTIONS 208 

Class 1. Playful Imitativeness 210 

Manifestations. — Animal and Mental Development; ADimal 
and Mental Education; Animal and Mental Recreation. 

2. Ideal Creativeness 214 

Manifestations. — Ideal Theorizingness, Philosophizing, Build- 
ing up Systems 'of Religion, Philosophy, Science, Govern- 
ment, Morals, and a Phdosophy comprehending all; Ideal 
Inventiveness, as of Instruments, Machinery, Engines, 
Steamboats, Railroads, Telegraphs, Factories, Forges; Ideal 
Reproductiveness, Reproducing History and Nature in the 
rr . Drama, Poetry, Song, Painting, and Sculpture; Ideal Kn- 

hanciveness, Enhancing, Magnifying Character, or Forms of 
Nature, or a Capability of being Moved by the Sublime; Ideal 
Perfectiveness, Periectiug and Beautifying Nature according 
to the Ideals of the Mind, either in Architecture, Painting, 
Sculpture, Music, Poetry, or the Drama. 

3. Depreciative Sportiveness 223 

Manifestations. — Wittiness ; Ludicrousness ; Satiricalness. 

VI. — Religious Affections 227 

Class 1. Spiritual Wants 234 

2. Faith in God 237 

3. Hope of Immortality 240 

4. Anticipation of Heaven • • 241 

5. Divine Assimilativeness. . . . 243 

6. Devotedness to the Divine 245 



xii CONTEXTS. 

CHAPTER V. 

HEART QUESTIONS. 

Sect. I. —The Heart the Seat of Moral Chabactbb 

II. — I. What is Depravity? II. What is Insanity* III. Whm ifl 
Dementia? IV. What is Demonia< ix Possession? V. Cai bi - 

OF THE ABOVE STATES. VI. CASTING 01 1 D EVILS -~>i 

III. — Is MAN RESPONSIBLE FOB Ills DEPRAVITY? &C 260 

IV. — The Heaut the Seat of Salvation 268 

V. — IIeakt-Power 264 



PART III. THE INTELLECT. 

DIVISION I. 

HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO KNOW? 

CHAPTER I. 

WHAT ARE THE FACULTIES OF KNOWING? 

A. What is the Consi roi sness? 2G9 

B. What is the Reason? 27U 

C. What is the Sense? 276 

D. What is the Conscience? 278 



CHAPTER II. 

WHAT IS KNOWING? 

Sect. I. — What is Knowing in general? 279 

II. — All Knowing is divided into Absolute and Relative Knowing. 283 

III. — What is Knowing as distinguished by the States and the' 

Modes prominent in the Act of Knowing? 288 

A. Conscious Knowing £90 

B. Rational Knowing 291 

C. Sense Knowing 202 

D. Intuitive Knowing 295 

E. Instinctive Knowing 29G 

E. Dream Knowing 3U1 

IV. — With what Kind of Knowing, and with what Faculty of the 

Intellect, can the Mind begin to know? 804 



CONTENTS. 



DIVISION II. 

ABSOLUTE KNOWING, OR THE NATURE AND ORIGIN 
OF IDEAS AND THE SENSE. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE CONSCIOUSNESS GIVES ORIGINAL FACTS, AND BEGINS 
KNOWLEDGE. 

Sect. I. — Certain Foundation Facts, showing that the Mind itself, 
with its Being, Faculties, and Action, affords the Mate- 
rial out of which Ideas are formed 315 

II. — How the Consciousness finds and gives the Original and On- 

tological Facts out of which the Reason forms Ideas. . 322 
III. — The Difference between the Human Mind, Brute Being, and 

Inanimate Nature respectively 346 

A. Facts Peculiar to the Human Mind *. . . 346 

B. Brute Being 353 

C. Inanimate Nature 3G1 



CHAPTER II. 

THE REASON FORMS IDEAS FROM THE FACTS OF CON- 
SCIOUSNESS. 

Sect. I. — What is an Idea? ...... 364 

II. — The Difference of the Relation of the Reason to the Con- 
sciousness in forming Ideas, from its Relation to it in 
cognizing external Facts 368 

III. — The Reason does its Work of transforming Facts into Ideas. 370 

IV. — Absolute Personality distinguished from Human and Im- 

siORTAL Personality, and also from Brute Being and 
Inanimate Nature ■ 403 



CHAPTER III. 
FACTS, IDEAS, AND CATEGORIES OF THE UNEMBODLED MIND. 418 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE SENSE. 

Sect. I. — The Nature and the Faculties of the Sense, and its Rela- 
tion to the Body 429 

II. — What is Body, and why is the Soul embodied? ....... 432 



XIV 



CONTENTS. 



Sect. III. — The Union of Soul and Body « 438 

IV. — The Relation of the Sense to Knowing 453 

A. The Relation of the Body to Mental Manifestation 458 

B. What is perceived by Means of the Sense ? 454 

C. May there be more than tive Senses? 456 



DIVISION III. 
RELATIVE KNOWING. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE NATURE OF RELATIVE KNOWING. 

Sect. I. — The Discrimination of Relative Knowing 457 

II. — The Relation of the Operation of the Reason, in Relative 

Knowing, to the Affections. . . . 458 

III. — What are the Comparative Certainty and Reliableness of 

Relative Knowing and Absolute Knowing? 450 

IV. — What is the Difference between Adsolute Knowing and 

knowing the Absolute? 460 

V. — Kant's Analytical and Synthetical Judgments, or Knowing. . 470 



CHAPTER II. 

SOUL LANGUAGE AND SOUL IMPLEMENTS, 

Or the Dictionary and Instruments of the Reason used in Relative 
Knowing 474 



CHAPTER III. 

THE OPERATIONS OF THE REASON IN RELATIVE KNOWING. 
ART. I. — THE REASON ACQUIRES EXTERNAL FACTS. 

Sect. I. — The Reason Believes .' 478 

A. What is Faith, and what is the Difference between Believing and 

Knowing? 478 

B. What is the Difference between Relative Knowing and Believing? 479 

II. — The Reason Perceives 483 

A. What is Perception ? 483 

B. What are the Grounds and Conditions of Perception? 486 



CONTENTS. xv 

Sect. III. — The Reason Cognizes 492 

A. What are the Knowings of the Reason under, and by means of, 

the Categories and the Senses? 492 

B. How is this Act of Cognition verified? 494 

C. Further Verification of the Act of Cognition 49S 

D. All Causes are Phenomenal in their Effects, as Substances are 

in their Qualities, and hence are perceptible 501 

E. Man, as Effect, is Phenomenal of God the Absolute. 506 

F. The Conclusion 514 

IV. — The Reason Conceives 517 

V. — The Reason Remembers. 521 

A. What is Remembering? 521 

B. The Relation of Remembering to Cognizing 522 

C. How does the Reason remember? 524 

D. How are Conceptions of External Things retained in the Mind? . 536 

E. The Mutual Relation of Believing, Cognizing, and Remembering. 550 

ART. II. — THE REASON COMBINES EXTERNAL FACTS. 

Sect. I. — The Reason Abstracts, Generalizes, and Classifies 554 

II. — The Reason Ratiocinates. 556 

III. — The Reason Rhetorizes 561 

IV. — The Reason Theorizes 563 

V. — The Reason Invents 565 

VI. — The Reason Imagines 507 

A. Imagining distinguished from other Operations of the Reason. . 567 

B. The Reason Embodies 570 

C. The Reason Idealizes 572 

D. The Reason Imagines Ideal Reproductions of the Real 573 

E. The Reason Enhances ■ 

' F. The Reason Beautifies or Perfects 

G. The Reason Depreciates 

H. Genius and Art 581 

VII. — The Reason Theologizes; or the Reason Affirms God and 

Immortality 5S8 

A. The Soul asserts itself and its God 588 

B. Immortality 591 

VIII. — The Reason Legislates 594 

IX. — Conclusion 594 

A. The Route from Man to God is not through Nature, but through 

the Human Soul 594 

B. The Soul claims to know God by its Intellectual Power, and not 

simply to infer his Existence from its Ethical Nature 595 



xvi CONTENTS. 



DIVISION IV. 
INTELLECT QUESTIONS. 

Chap. I. — What is the Standard of Truth? 597 

II. — Can the Trustworthiness of the Faculties of the Mind be 

PROVED BY THE TESTIMONY OF THOSE FACULTIES THEMSELVES? GOO 

III. — What is the Limit of Human Knowledge? 601 

IV. — Intellect Power 603 



PART IV. THE CONSCIENCE. 



CHAPTER I. 

NATURE AND FUNCTIONS OF THE CONSCIENCE. 

Sect. I. — An Ethical Judgment is the Highest Function of a Rational 

Soul G05 

II. — Is there a Conscience? G07 

III. — What Faculties must be in Ouder that a Conscience may be? 610 

IV. — What is the Conscience? 613 

V. — What is the Office of the Conscience? 618 

VI. — What is the Rule of Duty which the Conscience must ever 

and of Necessity receive and enjoin? 625 

VII. — Are all. Men under Obligation to have the True Law of 
the Eight and the True Rule of Duty, so that if they 

do Wrong they do it at their Peril? 627 

VIII. — What is the Ground and Limit of Man's Responsibility? . . 628 
IX. — Is the Man Just before God who obeys the Dictates of his 

own Conscience? 630 



CHAPTER II. 

QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 

Sect. I. — What is Man, in View of his Original Faculties, under Ob- 
ligation to be and to do? 632 

II. — What, as a Fact, is Man's Actual Condition and History? . 633 



CONTENTS. xvii 

Sect. III. — Has Man, in View of his Fallen Condition, a Right to claim 
that God shall provide Salvation? or can he do any- 
thing THAT WOULD LAY GOD UNDER OBLIGATION TO MAKE 

such Provision? 634 

IV. — Is Repentance the Work of the Conscience? 634 

V. — Is Man under Obligation to Repent? 635 

VI.. — Will Choosing to Repent, and Choosing to Change and Pu- 
rify the Heart, actually produce Repentance, and actu- 
ally Change and Purify the Heart ? 636 

VII. — If Choosing to Repent and Purify the Heart does not give 
Repentance and Purification, what, then, is Man- under 

Obligation to do? 636 

VIII. — How, then, can the Heart be Changed and Purified? .... 637 
IX. — Does the Law of Love bind God to Convert all Men, and 
Save them at all Costs, and with all Possible Expendi- 
ture of Grace? 638 

X. — Will God ever cease to make Efforts to save the Souls of 
Men, even though he is not bound by the Law of Love 
to do so, and even though they fall again and again, 

and fall ultimately into eternal death ? 63!) 

XI. — Conscience Power 639 



PART V. PERSONALITY. 

CHAPTER I. 

PERSONALITY AS A COMPLETE AUTOLOGY 641 

CHAPTER II. 
PERSONALITY AS THE FIRST FACT OF LIBERTY 646 

CHAPTER III. 
PERSONALITY AS THE KEY TO ALL KNOWLEDGE 652 

CHAPTER IV. 

PERSONALITY RENDERS A PHILOSOPHY POSSIBLE. 

Sect. I. — Is a Philosophy Possible? 657 

II. — Errors in Psychology which have prevented the Finding of 

a True Ontology 662 

III. — Errors as to the Nature of the Infinite and Absolute which 

HAVE PREVENTED THE DISCOVERY OF A TRUE 0.NTOLOGY. . . . 669 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER V. 

PERSONALITY THE ONLY TRUE DYNAMICS AND THE ONLY 
TRUE ONTOLOGY OF THE UNIVERSE 678 

CHAPTER VI. 

A PERSONAL CREATOR THE ULTIMATE FACT OF RELIGION 
AND SCIENCE 082 

CHAPTER VII. 

PERSONALITY QUESTIONS. 

Sect. I. — Miracles 635 

II. — Prates * 690 

III. — Providence 694 



CRITICAL APPENDIX. 

Chap. L — Man, God, Nature 698 

II. — Principles and Rules of Criticism 700 

HI. — xUthors 701 



AUTOLOGY. 



EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 

In the successive sections of this introduction will be found some gen- 
eral views in reference to the motives, matter, title, inscription, inten- 
tion, questions, and method of this book. It is designed to place the 
reader at the stand-point of the author, in order that he may more clearly 
see the scope of the work, more readily comprehend its subordinate 
parts, and be in a better position to form a judgment as to the extent 
to which it has fulfilled its own plan, and, in the end, gained or failed of 
reaching its own ultimate object. • 

I. Preface, a. The primary motive for writing this work was not to 
make a book, but to investigate mental science. A knowledge of the facul- 
ties and functions of the mind seemed a mental necessity and a moral duty. 
For who can ever know himself, his obligations or liabilities, without a 
knowledge of his own soul's faculties ? and what rational being can 
rightly rest in ignorance of himself? The labor thus self-imposed grew 
into a pleasure, and became its own reward. 

b. The points of beginning from which the inquiries of this book set 
out in search of truth, were the work of Jonathan Edwards on the 
" Freedom of the Will," and that of Immanuel Kant, entitled the 
" Critique of the Pure Reason." 

It scarcely need be said in this place that these two great works 
were not regarded as the poles of truth, but only as the poles of inquiry, 
by starting from which it has been sought to explore the equatorial re- 
gions of truth. 

The works of Edwards and Kant are the cooled and hardened 
masses of lava thrown out from the volcanic depths of the human mind 
by the eruptions of its own metaphysical fires.. In these vast masses, 
strown roughly along the rugged steeps of study and inquiry, are found 
many precious stones and valuable metals, with much of baser matter, 
such as mere cinders, ashes, and debris. 

1 



2 AUTOLOGY 

c. In these two great works are treasured much sturdy thinking and 
much valuable truth ; but, alas, there may be discovered there also much 
feeble thinking and the germs of nearly all the errors that infect the 
world of mental science. The fact is appalling, for if such giants in 
intellect fail, who can succeed ? Where they fall, who shall have the 
presumption to rush into the "imminent and deadly breach"? Yet 
"hope springs eternal in the human breast.'' And it is eloquently said 
that "never to give up the hope of a philosophy is the last infirmity of 
noble minds," hence philosophy never wants a votary or a champion 
willing to undertake her cause. 

d.* The thought and study which have wrought out and wrought them- 
selves into this book, have been put forth in hearty earnestness and in 
good faith, and have maintained their hidden and silent way as an under- 
current of living interest through many years of laborious and exacting 
professional duties and cares. The work thus produced may not be 
deemed worthy of high estimation ; yet if they who read it remember that 
the whole progress in science has been gained by small items contributed 
by many individuals, and that what may seem of but small value in the 
possession may have cost much in the procurement, and if it be remem- 
bered, also, that what may be very little to receive may be very much to 
be without, then it may turn out at the last that " he who gives a cup 
of cold water only " in the name of Science, as well as he who gives it 
in the name of Christ, " shall in no wise lose his reward." 

e. With these views and sentiments, this book is " cast upon the wa- 
ters " and surrendered to its fate. Intelligent and candid approval will 
be grateful, and intelligent and candid criticism will be thoughtfully con- 
sidered. That they who have wrought out systems of mental science 
for themselves, or they who have already adopted the theories of 
others, will lay them aside to take up the system of this book is not 
expected ; but it is hoped that they who have not as yet formed their 
opinions, and who are struggling to master the problems of mental science, 
will find some help from the study of these pages. 

II. Subject-matter, a. Man, as a volitional, affectional, intellectual, 
ethical, and physical being, having both soul and body in one essential 
unity and life, is the subject-matter of this book. 

b. The three great facts of the universe are Man, God, and Nature. 

c. Man, though not the greatest fact in the universe, is yet the first 
fact met, and the first to be known by the human mind. When man is 
known, then may we know God ; and when man and God are both known, 
then, and not till then, may we know nature. 

d. In treating of man, we shall find in him the following substantive 
faculties : 1. The Will ; 2. The Affections ; 3. The Intellect ; 4. The 



EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 3 

Conscience; — together constituting one manhood, and all combining in 
the unity of one personality. These four faculties and the personality 
which they compose will be discussed in order, forming the five leading 
parts of the work. 

III. Title. The full title and definition of this work is as follows : 

autology a spiritual, vital, dynamical, and inductive system of mental 

Science, whose centre is the Will, and whose completion is the Person- 
ality, HAVING ESSENTIAL BODY ; A VINDICATION OF THE MANHOOD OF Man, 
THE GoDHOOD OF GOO, AND THE DIVINE AUTHORSHIP OF NATURE. 

a. This system of Mental Science is called Autology, because it is 
man's own knowing of himself, and because in thus knowing himself the 
knower and the known are not only actually identical, but also neces- 
sarily in the same consciousness with the act itself of knowing. 

b. It is called Autology, because it is man's science of himself, and 
because it regards individuality as the law of liberty creating the wil], 
and the will as the essence of the mind generating its own qualities as 
faculties of the mind, and thus completing the personality. 

c. It is called Autology, because it is only by making 'himself the first 
object of knowledge, and because he can and must make himself the first, 
the immediate, and the direct object of knowledge that man can either, 
begin to knoto at all or know anything certainly or absolutely. 

d. It is called Autology, because the person thus known is not 
only the first fact of knowledge, but is the key, the only possible key, 
to all knowledge of God and of Nature — the first element in all 
possibility of knowing anything,; and here it is that we find the only 
veritable significance of the ancient apophthegm, "yvcbdi OcavTbv ,: ' 

e. This system of Mental Science is called spiritual, because the mind 
of man is essentially spirit in its nature. 

/. It is called vital, because it starts with the elements of Essential 
Activity, which is the Life principle, and of Essential Intelligence, which 
is the knowing principle, and because from these grow up the whole 
nature of the mind by combinations and development. 

g. It is called dynamical, because the relations of the elements to each 
other and to the faculties which they produce, and into which they are 
developed, are not only vital, but dynamical, and causative of these fac- 
ulties thus developed. 

h. It is called inductive, because it begins always with facts, and from 
them induces its principles ; or, rather, its facts are its principles, and 
hold a vital and dynamical relation to each other. 

i. And, furthermore, this system of Mental Science is called spiritual, 
vital, and dynamical, because man has spirit, life, and force in his own 
nature in common with universal being as essential elements : it is, there- 



4 AUTOLOGY. 

fore, not simply a psychology, but is also in some sort an Ontology, com- 
prising what is sometimes known as " Logic, Natural Philosophy, and the 
Philosophy ,of Mind ; " not that man is all being, or that all being is man ; 
but that man has in himself the same elements that are found in all 
things. 

j. The mind is essentially spirit, essentially life, and essentially force ; 
the first of these possessing in itself both the second and the third, and 
the second having in itself the third also, while the third stands alone, 
without having in it any part of the second or of the first. 

k. All things in the universe are divided into spirit, life, and force. 
Rational Souls belong to the class of spirit, Animal Nature belongs to 
the class of life, and Inanimate Nature belongs to the class of force. 
While this classification is true, it is also true that rational souls have in 
thciii. not only spirit, but also life and force ; that animal nature has in 
it life and force ; and that inanimate nature has in it only force, and no 
life nor spirit. 

I. This system of Mental Science is said to have the Will as its centre, 
because the will is shown to be the essence of the mind in which all the 
faculties inhere. 

m. It is also said to have its completion in the Personality, because 
the personality is the resultant of a combination of all the faculties in one 
living unity. As the will rises above mere self, in that it has liberty, so 
personality rises above mere will, because it has affections, reason, and 
conscience. 

)i. This personality is described as having " essential body " be- 
cause it is the- nature of the spirit, or the mind, to embody itself ; for, as 
souls have in them force as well as spirit and life, they have thereby in 
themselves the power of self-embodiment. As souls embody themselves 
before they are born into the world, so have they ever the power, and 
so is it ever their nature and tendency, to. embody themselves ; death 'is 
nothing but disembodying, it does not take away the power of the 
soul to renew its body, nor its tendency to do so. 

o. Moreover, as each self-conscious spirit necessarily includes itself ■ 
in its own self-consciousness, and excludes every other spirit from it, so 
that they are always mutually impenetrable and objective to each other, 
they must always, of necessity, present themselves to each other as 
having body or quantity as well as soul, and, consequently, communicate 
with each other by means of signs of thought ; and all this by virtue 
of the simple fact of their reality as living and actual beings. 

p. This spiritual, vital, dynamical, and inductive system of mental 
science is an Autology, because, when done, it forms one vital whole, 
one live man, one complete and effective personality having essential body, 
which, as such, actually performs all the functions of a human being. 



EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. . 5 

IV. The Terminology, a. He that thinks his own thoughts will feel 
the necessity of using his own words, and of constructing his own sen- 
tences ; hence every original thinker and writer will find himself either 
using old words in a new signification, or coining new words in order to 
express his thought and discriminate his meaning ; and the structure of 
his sentences and the whole cast of his style will also of necessity have 
a strongly marked individuality. 

b. If an author has never had occasion to coin a new word, if he has 
never found it necessary to recast or redefine an old one, it is to be 
feared that he never coined a new. idea, or so reproduced or perfected an 
old one as to make it his own. If an author has a now and original 
thought, or a new cast of an old one, he has a right to the clearest and 
directest manner of expressing it, either by a new word or by an old 
word redefined and made new for his purpose. 

c. All that any reader has a right to demand is, that his author 
shall use words well defined and clear, and always in the same sense. 
To require an author to adopt another man's terminology or to imitate 
another man's style is to infringe upon the liberty of thought, and to 
attempt a petty tyranny in the republic of letters. Criticism performs 
its smallest and least honorable office, when, in reviewing a scientific 
work, it descends from logic and clearness in thought and expression to 
the mere milliner's work of dogmatizing over terms and style. 

d. Nor is it fair to judge of a scientific and logical discussion as we 
would of a mere literary essay or a set oration ; for, as in mathematics 
the same signs and formulas must be used and repeated at each step of 
the argument, and as the accuracy of a mathematical conclusion depends 
on the exactness of the terms used, and especially on the identity of 
those terms in each recurring place, so also in metaphysical science terms 
and definitions must be exact, and used and repeated always in pre- 
cisely the same words,: — ipsissimis verbis, — or they will mislead and 
conduct to error and not to truth. 

e. No earnest and competent student whose spirit yearns to know the 
meaning of his author and the force of his argument, will ever complain 
of either new words or new definitions ; nor of repeating them ; nor of 
any peculiarity of style ; if so be his author makes himself clearly and 
unmistakably understood. .Words and definitions that mean one thing, 
and nothing else, in the connection in which they are used — that mean 
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth — are to be found 
if possible, and when found, to be employed and repeated in the same 
identical and invariable form and sense in all parts of the same argu- 
ment ; and that regardless of all considerations of mere > variety of 
expression in the use of terms, or elegance of style in the construction 
of sentences. If, according to Daniel Webster, "clearness, force, and 



6 AUTOLOGY. 

earnestness are the qualities (in the orator) that produce conviction," 
then are they all-sufficient for the metaphysician, who seeks no other 
result. 

V. Questions. a. The two great generic questions of mental 
science, are, How can the mind begin to act? and how can it begin to 
know? These questions involve others of great importance ; as, 1. What 
is liberty, what is will, what is choice:'' 2. What is consciousness? 
3. What is knowing? 4. What is the first object of knowledge ? 5. What 
is the true key of knowledge? 6. Can the mind know absolutely ? 7. Can 
the mind know the absolute? These questions are the same as asking 
whether the mind can do anything, or know anything. 

b. The answer to these questions, is, that man is to himself, of neces- 
sity, the first fact of liberty and the first object of knowledge, and thus 
the test of all freedom and the key to all knowledge. Man can. and 
must, begin his own action, and originate his own knowing; which is 
equivalent to saying, that he can act freely, and can know absolutely, 
and the absolute. For to begin to know is to know one's sell' as the 
first object of knowledge, and to know one's self is to know absolutely, 
because the knower and the known are identical — and to know one's 
self as a free affectional, rational and ethical soul, is to know that such 
a soul had of necessity a beginning and a beginner, both of which must 
necessarily be absolute. 

c. That man lias no absolute freedom, but only alternative freedom, 
that man cannot know absolutely, but only relatively, and that all 
knowledge must begin outside of man, is the current philosophy of both 
atheist and theist. The German absolutists are no exception to this 
remark, for they were not absolutists in any right meaning of that 
term ; they were only naturalists, or pantheists ; they merged nature 
and man iu God, which is precisely the same as merging God and man 
in nature. They destroyed the true absolute, and neither explained it 
nor believed in it. The absolute is God, God alone, distinct and separate 
from both man and nature. 

d. The doctrine that we can know only relatively and the relative, 
is the doctrine of atheism, and it is impossible for any theist to rescue it 
from the service of atheism. It is false to .the free will, the self-seeing 
consciousness, and the self-comprehending reason of man, denies their 
existence, and makes them impossible, and hence destroys the man- 
hood of man, and by so doing destroys all proof of the personality and 
Godhood of God, and by consequence of the divine authorship of nature. 

e. The making of so-called liberty to consist in mere spontaneity, or 
alternative action, is the destruction of all liberty ; and the making of so- 
called knowing to consist in mere relative knowing and knowing the 



EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 7 

relative is the destruction of all knowing. True liberty is self activity 
and self-intelligence under the control of self-law iu self-disposition ; and 
true knowing is self-seeing and self-comprehending. These give absolute 
liberty and absolute knowing ; for in this liberty the disposer and the 
disposed of are identical, i. e., the will disposes of itself; and in this 
knowing the knower and the known are identical, i. e., the conscious- 
ness is conscious that it is conscious, and the reason comprehends itself, 
and in each case of necessity absolutely. 

f. From this it will readily appear that almost all errors in systems of 
theology arise from a false mental philosophy, as the gravest errors in 
mental philosophy arise from studying nature first and the mind after- 
wards, or from attempting to apply the laws of nature to the study of the 
mind. Sceptics are able to doubt, and atheists are able to argue, because 
a false mental philosophy confounds the mind with nature, and blends 
God with universal being ; and theists are unable to defend themselves be- 
cause their mental philosophy is lame, and betrays them into contradic- 
tion and absurdity. 

VI. Intention. 1. a. This book is written in vindication of the Man- 
hood of Man, the Godhood of God, and the divine authorship of Nature: 

b. In order to this, we begin by establishing the Manhood of Man ; 
'for no one can deny the Godhood of God, until he has first destroyed 
the manhood of man ; nor can any one deny that nature has an Author, 
until he has first annihilated God. 

c. On the other hand, no one can affirm that God is God, until he has 
first found out that man is man ; nor can any one show that nature had 
an author, until he has first found that God has a being. Man is a free, 
volitional, affectional, rational, ethical, and personal soul, having spirit 
and body, and is in. the image of God — who is an infinite and absolute 
personal spirit^ and whose attributes are consequently analogous to those 
of man. 

d. But Nature is nec*essary, unintelligent, impassive, and irrespon- 
sible — a mere force, and no person. Nature alone in the universe 
is dark, greedy, and ghastly ; a monster and an atheist, knowing noth- 
ing; and proof of nothing; ever living by breeding and devouring her 
own offspring; a most unnatural nature, to which life is death, and death, 
life ; a nature which is not nature at all, because alone, and without God 
and man. 

e. On the contrary, nature with God and man existing, God' as its 
author, and man as its lord, is Divine; she is the devout and'beau- 
tiful daughter of Divinity, the loving bride of Humanity, and the benig- 
nant nursing mother of all living. 

/. If, therefore, there is no man, then there is no God; and if there is 



8 . ADTOLOGY 

no God, then there is no nature [that is nature), but only a monstrous 
cannibalism, making the universe a horror. 

g. The true order of the sciences, and the highway of all knowledge, 
is, therefore, this ; viz. : Man, God, Nature ; not nature first and man and 
God afterwards, for all who begin with nature must of necessity end 
in nature and in atheism; nor, if God be sought first, and man and nature 
afterwards, can the truth be found, for no man with mere human faculties 
of knowledge can, in the first instance, find God, or come into direct 
contact with his person; but always, and everywhere, man first, then 
God, then nature. This is not only the best route, but the only possible 
route of knowledge and of science in the universe. Man can neither 
find, nor can God reveal knowledge in any other way. Man, therefore, 
is the first object of knowledge, and mental science is the first in order 
and the first in importance of all the sciences. 

2. a. What, then, is it, in this manhood of man, that makes it the first 
object, and the only key of knowledge ? What gives it preference over 
nature, as the only evidence of a God ? The reply is, that man is 
manifestly the first object of knowledge because he is himself the first 
object with which his own mind comes in contact, and he is the evi- 
dence of God's being because he is of the nature of God, as a free, 
affeetional, rational, and ethical spirit, and because he can be shown as 
such to have had a beginning, while nature is necessary and mechan- 
ical, and can never be shown to have had a beginning. 

b. First, man must be shown to have a free will, a heart, a reason, 
and a conscience ; or, in other words, it must be shown that he is free, 
affeetional, rational, and ethical in his nature ; a living soul ; and that 
as such his being had a beginning. Then is this — his begun existence 
as a free, affeetional, rational, and ethical soul — evidence, proof un- 
deniable, of the existence of a God, — a free, affeetional, rational, ethical 
God, self-existent and almighty, the Creator of all things. 

c. If man has no free will, if man has no comprehending reason, or, 
in other words, if he cannot originate his own acts, and thus show abso- 
lute freedom, and if he cannot originate his own knowing, and thus know 
absolutely, then has he no action, and no knowing, which are his own, 
but acts and knows only as he is acted upon, — and consequently is no 
man, has no manhood, has no personality; but is only a fact of 
nature, and is no evidence of the being of a personal God. Hence man 
must be known before God can be known, and God must be known before 
nature can be known; and hence, again, — a psychology must first be, 
before a theology can be, and a theology must be, before a philosophy 
of nature can be made. 

d. God is spirit and person while nature is only thing, and a bottom- 
less chasm holds them in eternal separation ; no bridge constructed 



EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 9 

from nature's materials and projected from nature's abutments can span 
that infinite abyss and reach the personal Creator. The attempt to prove 
the existence of God from nature is the immemorial folly of the theists, 
while to degrade man to the level of nature is the eternal crime of the 
atheists. 

e. The aphorism, " Through nature up to nature's God," can never 
conduct man to his Creator. There is no possible route through nature 
up to God. Nothing in nature is capable of proving a personal God. 
Through man alone, through man as a free, affectional, rational, and 
ethical soul alone, lies the route to a personal God; and a God that .is not 
personal is no God at* all. Through man up to man's God and nature's 
Author, lies' the only highway of truth and the only true science. Nature 
can never afford any proof of the manhood of man or of the Godhood 
of God. 

f. The argument, "He that formed the eye, shall he not see?" 
was not intended to prove God's existence — it shows only the 
working of a formative power, it assumes, but is of no force to 
establish the being of a personal God — for the eye is only a machine, 
and seeing is only a mechanical act. The maker of the eye might there- 
fore have been only a better mechanic than the beaver who builds his 
dam, or the spider who draws his lines and angles. 

g. No argument is valid but this; viz., The begun had a beginner. 
The free will of man is the only thing in existence that can be proved 
to have had a beginning ; he therefore who began the free will of man 
must have created it, and he who could create a free will must have 
been himself an almighty and self-existent free will. 

3. a. As it is true that God cannot be known unless man is first known, 
so also is it true that nature cannot be known unless God is first known. 
By no study of nature in the first instance, unaided by an antecedent 
knowledge of man and of God, can even nature herself be known as 
to her cause qr end ; therefore the first object of a work on mental 
science should be to show the manhood of man, and thereby, secondly, 
the Godhood of God ; and by this, again, the divine authorship of 
nature ; and by all these combined to show the divine intention and 
divine indispensableness of all created existence. These things being 
done, we shall have distinctly before us man, God, nature, in their true 
being, in the true order of our knowing, and in the true order of science. 

b. Nature in all her wondrous mechanism is but mechanism still, and 
mutely and automatically moves in her mechanical rounds, and can never 
tell whence she is or whither she is going, but only that she is forever 
coming and going — mystery is behind her, mystery is before her, mystery 
is above her, mystery is beneath her, and mystery is within her; and the 
veil of that mystery, she can never lift, nor can any man or angel by 
2 



10 AJJTOLOGY. 

studying her mechanism and laws ever Bnd her out. Nature is the lone 
Isis, who ever still, as of old, inscribes on her "\\ d eternal mechanism, aa 
descriptive of herself, her history, and her doom : " 1 am all that has 
been, 1 am all that shall be, and none among mortals has < vet been able 
to lift my veil." . 

c. Behind that veil of mystery lurks atheism forever, and ever hides 
secure with all its horde of lies. Alternately does •atheism deify and 
revile nature; at one time affirming that she is a goddess ami the eternal 
mother of all, and "at another declaring that she is a base foundling, 
straying down the broad common of eternal aires, or wildered and lost 
in the waste and howling- wildernesses of a godless universe. Nature 
alone is helpless; and though she can easily show that she is no god- 
dess, yet. she can never vindicate her parentage from God. Nor can 
any man, or angel, by Studying her, ever demonstrate her origin from < rod, 
or that there is a God at all. The eternal journey of her labyrinthia|i 
rounds ean never take him out of herself, but must ever return him to 
the point from which he started, or have him in darkness at her centre. 
She can nevei- even precipitate him over her own eternal verge into the 
friendly nothingness beyond and below her, but must forever grasp and 
smother him in the burning and crushing arms of her own worse than 
.Moloch embrace. 

d. But man can know man, an 1 in knowing him steps out of nature 
and all her operations; nay. as man he is already Outside ofjiature, and 
in the region of spirit. He ean know himself to be outside of nature, 
and can trace his being to its beginning outside of nature also, and find 
it in the free will of parents. The beginning of the first parents is 
the point where he finds God. 

e. Having found God, man comes back upon nature, and views heron 
the outside, looking down from above and up from beneath, seeing 
at once through her works, her progress, and her history : and like 
a traveller from abroad he can e..ter into the central hall of her 
Egyptian pyramid and explore her hidden chambers; and with the 
line of his own spiritualness and life he can follow out all the windings 
of her labyrinthian paths, and by instinct of his own free soul he can 
break through the dead partition walls that shut him from her central 
chambers and the central life-spring of all her being, and tell her that she is 
not self-existent, nor contingent, nor fate-created : — that consequently she 
is no goddess, nor any base, unfathered foundling, but created by a 
personal God, a daughter of heaven though a child of earth, and having 
her life in the universe of common being. 

/. Nature cannot be known from within, that is, from studying nature, 
but must be known, if known at all, from without, by studying man 
and God first. Whosoever enters nature's temple first to find God 



EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 11 

will wander, and wander, and wander endlessly, and will not only 
find no God, but will become wildered and lost himself; for that 
temple, growing ever more and more gloomy, and mystic, and dark, will 
at last become a prison ; and in the night of the closed doors and barred 
windows of that prison, man, and God, and nature will all be lost in 
one monstrous and horrid atheism : and here again, it appears that man 
is, and ever must be, the first object and the true key of all knowledge. 

g. With this almighty God known, and from this stand-point outside 
of nature, and in this way alone, is it possible to know nature, to lift her 
veil, and understand her being and her works. 

h. God, as rational, is the contriver of nature ; God, as free, is the 
author of nature ; God, as ethical, is the self-constrained necessity for the 
existence of nature, and of man ; God, as self-existent and almighty, is the 
original and uncaused cause, and creator and author of all things ; for 
God in creating was impelled only by his own love under the divine 
behest. of his own pure and ethical nature, which obliged him to do his 
best of wisdom and love with his own almightiness. And here we have 
the original source of all things, and the true dynamical necessity for 
the creation of all things. 

VII. Method. The general method of this work is inductive ; the 
specific method is controlled by the subject-matter. 

a. Autology, or Mental Science, has for its subject-matter specifically 
three things : First, the faculties that act and know, or the actor and the 
knower ; Second, the operation of these faculties, or the acting and the 
knowing ; Third, the objects upon which they are exercised, or the 
acts done and the things known. 

6. The discussion of each of these involves that of the others, nor can 
any one be known without knowing the rest. In this work we seek to 
know directly the faculties of the actor and the knower, and find them 
to be the Will, the Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience. In 
ascertaining them, we begin with the operations of the faculties of the 
mind, and the object upon which they are exercised. Hence our work 
starts with these fundamental questions : How can the mind begin to 
act? how can the mind begin to know? and what is the first object of 
knowledge ? and what is the key of all knowledge? 

c. The discussion might be arranged as follows : — 

1. 1. How can the mind begin to act? 

2. How can the mind begin to know ? 

These involve the questions, What is the first object ? and what is 
the true key of all knowledge ? and can the mind know absolutely and 
the absolute ? Under the former question would be discussed the will, 



12 AUTOLOGY. 

the affections, and the conscience ; under the latter, the intellect and 

the senses. 

II. Or the following method might be adopted, viz.: The mind aa to 
Substance and us to Qualities. The former would include and discuss 
the will; and tin' Latter, ilif other faculties of the mind, as tin- affections, 

the intellect with the senses, and the conscience. 

III. Or a third method or classification might be adopted, viz. : The 
dividing of the whole mind into, — 

1. The efficient m- subjective power of chi 

2. The occasional or objective power vi' choice. 

The former would include the will, and the latter all the other facul- 
ties of the mind, with the presence of their appropriate external objects. 

IV. Or the whole mind maybe classified and treated by starting with 
its two primary elements, in the following manner, viz. : — 

1. Essential Activity, whose office is Self-acting. 

2. Essential Intelligence, whose office is Sell-seeing. 
These combining produce, — 

(1.) The Will, whose office is choosinj,-. 

(2.) The Affections, whose office is aflectioning. 

(3.) The Intellect, whose office is knowing. 

(4.) The Conscience, whose office is moralizing. 

V. Or the whole mind may lie divided thus: — 

( Essential Intelligence, and ) n • • 

1. -J „ ..... J- Originators. 



( Essential Activity, 

2. Will, The Executive. 

3. Affections, The People. 

4. Intellect, The Legislature. 

5. Conscience, The Judiciary. 

d. These several classifications cover the same ground, and may all 
be employed together, as they do not at all conflict, but, as a fact, 
actually coalesce in .one whole, as we shall see in the progress of the 
work. We shall therefore use all these methods, following' chiefly the 
order of the fourth classification, yet blending the others with it at their 
homogeneous points. 

• e. Thus in Part I., Chapter I., we shall discuss the points laid down 
in the first classification, viz. : How can the mind begin to act, how 
can it begin to know, and what is the first object;, and what is the key 
of all knowledge ? These are primary principles, lying at the foundation 
of both the philosophy and the method of the whole work. 



EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 13 

/. In Chapter II., we shall discuss the points which constitute 
the second classification, viz. : The mind, as to Substance and, as to 
Qualities. This will be done, because in this respect this work differs 
essentially from other works, viz., as to the nature of the substance of 
the mind, in that it is a self-conscious, and self-seeing, as well as a self- 
acting substance ; and in that these are the respects in which it differs 
from, the substance of matter. 

g. In Chapter III., we shall discuss the points in the third clas- 
sification, viz. : The mind, considered as the efficient and as the occasional 
power of choice ; because thereby we may separate the act of choice 
from the other acts of the mind, and the faculty that chooses from the 
other faculties, and thus be prepared to analyze both the*act of choice 
and the faculty of choice, and to make them stand out clearly and 
distinctly before us. We shall thus, also, be enabled to point out and 
discriminate the other acts and the other faculties of the mind. 

h. From and after Part II. we shall proceed according to the second 
and fourth classifications to the end, but not failing to make manifest the 
pertinence and truthfulness of the fifth and last classification, as it will 
from time to time appear. 

i. The student of mental science will see that all these classifications 
blend in one ; that the primary elements, discussed in the first classi- 
fication, and the substance, or essence, of the mind found in the second, 
and the efficient power of .choice found in the third, and the will, 
whose office is choosing, found in the fourth, and the executive found 
in the fifth classification above, are all identical ; meaning, defining, and 
characterizing the self-same thing ; viz. : the will ; and that the remain- 
ing specifications in these first three, and in the fourth and fifth classifi- 
cations, cover, mean, and comprise all the other faculties of the mind. 

j. Moreover, he will also discover that, as the will is a combination of 
both the primary elements of self-activity and self-intelligence, or, as they 
may be better named, essential activity and essential intelligence, so 
the affections are a development chiefly on the side of the essential ac- 
tivity, though not without a mingling of the essential intelligence. 

k. And he will see that the reason is a development on the side of 
the essential intelligence, though not without some mingling of the 
essential activity. 

• I. And that the conscience is the reuniting of both the essential ac- 
tivity and the essential intelligence in one last, complete, and highest 
faculty. Thus the mind is one complete and living whole. 

m. While it can be analyzed into elements, growths, developments, 
and faculties, still it is a unity ; one, and but one person, having one 
life, one centre, and one complete being. 

This system will have five leading parts, four of them corresponding to 



14 AUTOLOGY. 

the' four faculties of the mind, and a fifth, consisting of their combination 
into o.ne living whole, or personality, viz.: — 1. The Will. 2. Tbe 
Affections. 3. The Intellect, with Sense and Body. 1. The Conscience. 
5. The Personality. 

n. In the first four parts, the faculties of the mind, with their opera- 
tions, will be discussed in the order earned. In the fifth part, the ele- 
ments of the complete nature and the power of the personality as one 
living whole will be given, tog-ether with its relation to God and to 
Nature. 

Till. Criteria. First. A system of mental science must give and 
account for aH the known facts and faculties of the mind. 

Second. It must so arrange those facts in a system as to have each 
fact in its right place, and each faculty in its right relation to the whole, 
and performing its right and natural functions. 

Third. The facts, when thus brought together, must constitute a 
complete unity; a perfect whole, with no deficiencies, and no redun- 
dancies; forming one entire and harmonious system. 

Fourth. The completed, and unified, and harmonious whole when 
thus formed, with every fact, faculty, and susceptibility of the mind and 
body in its place, musl be uol only complete, but alive, and able to per- 
form all the functions of a perfect mind ; so that, like the new created 
Adam, who, when God breathed into him .the breath of life, Ijecame a 
living soul, it shall also be a living soul; not an automaton, a lifeless 
statue, or a grinning skeleton, but a live man, having in himself all the 
elements of a living being, actually able to perform all the functions of 
a free, affectional; rational, and ethical soul. 

Fifth. A system of mental philosophy, when thus complete, must 
afford the means of explaining the vexed cpuestions, and other difficulties 
which arise out of mental operations, particularly in respect to choices 
of the will, cognitions of the intellect, states of the affections, and 
decisions of the conscience. A system of mental philosophy that can 
do this, will certainly afford strong evidence that it is true and valid, 
and may be received as a reliable science of the mind. 

D. H. H. 

Boston, January 1, 1873. 



PART I. 
THE WILL 



CHAPTER I. 

WHAT IS THE FIRST GREAT QUESTION OP MENTAL SCIENCE? 
The first great question of Mental Science is twofold ; viz., — 

flow CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO ACT ? 
HOW CAN IT BEGIN TO KNOW ? 

Involving 1 many others, particularly these ; viz., — 

What is Liberty ? What is Consciousness ? What is Knowing ? 
What is the first Object of Knowledge ? What is the true Key of 
Knowledge ? Can the Mind know absolutely ? Can it know the 
Absolute ? » 

SECT. I. HOW DO THE TRUTH AND IMPORTANCE OF THE ABOVE 
QUESTIONS APPEAR? 

a. These first great problems of mental science, How can the mind 
begin to act, how can it begin to know, involving the questions, What 
is consciousness, what is knowing, what is the first object and the 
true key of knowledge, — and can the mind know absolutely, and the 
absolute, — are • equivalent to the following questions : Can the mind 
do anything ? can it know anything ? Are the actings and knowings 
of the mind original, independent, and absolute ? or are they only sec- 
ondary, dependent, and relative ? and is there any standard and measure 
of knowledge ? 

b. The usual method of mental philosophies is, first, to examine the 
nature and capabilities of the faculties of the intellect, or the sense and 
the reason, and by the sensations of the former and the ideas of the latter, 
to ascertain what the mind can know; and secondly, to examine the 

15 



1G AUTOLOGY. 

affections, and the conscience, and the will, in order, by 'their nature and 

capabilities, to ascertain what the mind ran do. 

c. But tins method obviously takes for granted the thing to be 
proved. It shows, or proposes to show, what the mind can do, and 
what it can know, instead of showing whether it can begin to do any- 
thing, or begin to know anything, and how it can begin to act, and how- 
it can begin to know. 

It assumes that we begin to act with the will, the affections, or the 
conscience, and that we begin to know, cither with ideas or with sensa- 
tions; whereas, the acting of the will, the affections, and the conscience 
implies an acting anterior to, and conditional for their action : and the 
very exist, nee of ideas and of sensations implies an antecedent act of 
knowing. 

d. The first spring of our action, and the source of our knowing, are 
questions still unsettled, and. until they are settled, nothing is or" can be 
settled; we are not assured that we can know or do anything. We 
are not certain but that all our knowing j s a mere seeming, and all our 
acting is merely being acted upon. 

e. Now. the usual systems of mental philosophy, in reference to the 
origin which they assign to our knowledge, have been classified under 
the heads of Sensationalism, Idealism, Scepticism, Mysticism, and Eclec- 
ticism ; and all these systems have, in whole or in part, agreed in 
assigning the origin of all our knowing to the faculty of the reason, or 
to the senses, or to divine inspiration, or to all of them. That is, they 
have either avowed or assumed these as the origin of knowledge; but 
each and all of them have failed to trace our knowing to an J original and 
absolute source, always leaving it at a point where it implies an ante- 
cedent act of knowing. 

f. So the systems of mental philosophy have, in reference to the first 
spring of the action of the mind, been classified under the heads of 
Necessitarian and Libertarian ; the one holding that the mind has its 
spring of action in the affections, and the other in the will ; or the one 
in the strongest motive, and the other in the self-determining power of 
the will. All who hold that the strongest motive is the source of the 
mind's action, place that source in the affections. And all who believe 
that self-determination is the source of the mind's action, place that 
source in the will; or, it may be,some, more lately, place it in the 
conscience. 

g. Each, however, fails to get any independent activity for the mind, 
and both confound it with necessary action. 

All these systems have ever mistaken the true object with which to 
begin their knowing, and with which to provide for themselves the only 
universal key, measure, or standard of knowledge. 



THE WILL. it 

h. That anything may be known certainly and absolutely, the knower 
and the known must be identical. Something must be known absolutely 

BEFORE ANYTHING CAN BE KNOWN RELATIVELY. 

The knoivn object must be also homogeneous with all other objects, in 
order that the knowledge of it may be a key or measure to the knowledge of 
all other objects. 

i. In the following sections we shall endeavor to point out the first 
spring of the mind's acting, and the true source of its knowing, and also 
the first object and the true key or measure of all knowledge, and thus 
lay the foundation of a true system of mental science. 

j. The primal spring of the mind's acting and the true source of the 
mind's knowing are the two poles, as the first object of knowledge is 
the axle upon which a complete system of mental science must ever 
turn ; the first, giving the true nature of liberty, the second, the true 
nature of consciousness, and the third, the true test, and the true key, 
of all knowledge. 

k. Now, with regard to the question, What is the first spring of the 
mind's action ? this treatise will reply, that it is not, as the usual systems 
of mental philosophy assume or avow, either in the affectfons or in the 
will, nor yet in the conscience, as some would have it ; that, on the 
contrary, all these are not primary, but secondary activities, implying an 
antecedent activity, which is necessary to their action. 

I. And, with regard to the question, What is the source of the mind's 
knowing? this treatise will reply, that it is not in the senses, nor in the 
reason, nor in revelation, but all these imply and require a knowledge 
preceding them, and without which they cannot exist. Neither the 
senses, nor the reason, nor revelation can begin our knowledge. 

m. But, on the contrary, this treatise will affirm that the mind, in 
order to any independent action, must have an activity lying back of 
the faculties of the will, the affections, or the conscience ; and that, in 
order to any absolute knowing, it must have a source of intelligence lying 
deeper than the senses or the reason, and that it must have an 
anterior knowledge also, before it can be capable of receiving any 
revelation. 

n. And with regard to the first object, and the true key and standard 
and measure of knowledge, it will be shown that they lie in man, and 
that the mind's knowing extends to the absolute. 

o. In the second and third sections, we shall treat respectively and at 
large the questions, How can the mind begin to act? how can it begin to 
know? In the fourth section, we shall treat the questions, What is the 
first object and the true key of knowledge ? connecting therewith some 
necessary showing that the mind can know both absolutely and the 
absolute. The full discussion, however, of the whole subject of knowing, 
3 



18 AITOLOGY. 

with all questions involved therein, will come up legitimately in Pari 111. 
where the intellect is discussed at large. 



SECT. II. HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO ACT, OR WHAT IS THE 
TRUE SOURCE OF LIBERTY? 

a. We have already seen that the mind, in order to ad at all, and 
especially to begin to act, must have a spring of action lying- deeper 
than the will, the affections, and the conscience. 

b. We now take up the investigation of this point, viz., How can 
the mind begin to act? 

With regard to the error of assigning the first spring of the mind's 
activity to the will, the affections, or the conscience, the reasoning 
which attempts to establish it will be found to move in a vicious circle, 
and to end in self-contradiction and absurdity. 

c. 1. If it l>e affirmed that the action of the mind begins in an acl of 
choice by the will, it will be found that the act of choice presupposes 
not only mental actions already existing as objects of choice, but also 
mental actions to be directed by the act of choice. To choose, is to 
direct an activity, already existing and in action, towards some other 
object. The act of choice, therefore, is not. and cannot be, the be- 
ginning of the mind's action; for it already presupposes two activities, 
without which it cannot exist. The one is tin' acting which it directs, 
and the other is the acting which it chooses. 

'/. "J. If from tin- will we pass over to the affections, and seek in 
them the first spring of the mind's action, we shall here find that there 
has been an act of choice directing an already foregone activity produ- 
cing them. For the affections are all susceptibilities; they act only as 
they are acted upon, and never until they are acted upon by some 
object or action without them ; and this action or object is always pro- 
duced directly or indirectly by the will's act of choice ; as, then, an act 
of choice presupposes an act of the affections, so also an act of affection 
presupposes an act of choice ; therefore the action of the mind cannot 
begin in the affections, for they always presuppose some anterior action. 

e. The acts of the affections are the objects of choice to the will, but 
•are themselves produced by some other act or object which acts upon 
them. They are susceptibilities which rise into emotions after they have 
been acted upon. They are not the stimulants to the will's choice, but 
the objects of the will's choice. They neither begin the will's action, 
therefore, nor their own ; for the will acts before them, and has an 
activity already existing when it finds them. The will does not, in 
every case, produce the action of the affections, though it will be found 
in every instance to have had something to do, directly or indirectly, 



THE WILL. 19 

with bringing about the presence of the object, or the circumstances 
which do act upon the affections and produce their action, which action 
the will afterwards chooses or refuses. 

f. The act of the affections is not a force behind the will impelling it 
to act, but an object towards which the will directs its activity already 
existing. The action of the will and the action of the affections mutually 
presuppose each other, and can neither of them begin the mind's activity. 
Therefore, to begin with either the one or the other, is to involve 
ourselves in contradiction and absurdity. 

g. 3. Nor is the difficulty at all relieved when the attempt is made 
to confound the action of the will and the action of the affections, and 
thus to make every act of affection a choice, and every act of choice an 
act of affection, or a combination of both, which is the same thing, and 
in neither case is there any independent or original action gained ; for 
neither the will in its act of choice, nor the affections in their actions, had 
in them any original activity when single ; they, therefore, could not give 
any when combined. As no combination of ciphers could produce a 
unit, so no combination of dependent and secondary activities could 

'make an independent one. 

h. The attempt to combine the will and the affections, ahd to make 
of them one new faculty, takes two forms ; the one affirms that every 
choice is an affection, and the other that every affection is a choice, and 
though appearing to differ, they agree ; for they combine the same ele- 
ments and produce the same result; viz., that of avowedly confounding 
the act of choice with the act of affection, but really of confounding the 
act of choice with the object of choice ; and in either case the activity 
of the mind is confounded with its passivity, the capability of acting 
with that of being acted upon, and thus the whole becomes a passivity. 
For it matters not whether all the choices be made affections, and thus 
the independence of the will be destroyed, or whether all the affections 
be made choices, and thus the nature of the act of choice be destroyed ; 
in both cases the same result is reached ; viz., that of devoluntizing the 
will, or literally demoralizing the will, and degrading it from an activity 
to a mere passivity. 

i. Viewed in this light, it has, in fact, no activity, nothing that can be 
called freedom ; for by this combination the motive to choice and the 
act of choice become the same, and the act of choice and the object of 
choice become identical, and thus no independent activity or freedom is 
possible to such a will. It is mere passivity acting impulsively, either 
from within or without. The activity that is not free and independent 
and original, is no activity ; it is passivity, which is necessary, and 
not free. 

j. Thus clearly it is shown, that no action can begin in any choice of 



20 AUTOLOGY. 

the will or in the affections, or in any combination of them, because, 
first, they have no original activity in themselves, and secondly, because, 
if the will in choosing had au original activity in itself, that activity is 
taken away, as we have seen, by combining it with the affections. 

k. I. The othertheory, of which Kant was the chief author, and which 
seeks to avoid the preceding difficulty, combines the conscience with 
tin' will and the affections. It makes the conscience the first spring- of 
the mind's action, and sets it as an alternative for the will in antagonism 
with the affections; but it falls into the same contradiction as does 
the prepeding method ; for the conscience has in itself no original ac- 
tivity, and can communicate none when combined with the will or the 
affections. 

I. Conscience, as a faculty, is simply that which gives the sense, or 
consciousness, of obligation, jusl as the affection of paternity gives the 
consciousness of parental affection. Neither of them is a free action, but 
both arc emotive, appetitive, and aflfectional, and of course act as they 
are acted upon. The conscience is. therefore, not free, nor can it give 
freedom any more than can any affection. It acts oidy as it is acted 
upon by the known rule of duty ; nothing is gained, therefore, in the 
way of independent activity, by combining it. with tin- will and the affec- 
tions; the action would remain the same, and be merely that of a 
passivity, ami not an original and independent action. As an affection, 
it could merely give an alternative to the other affections. But to have 
an alternative is not to have freedom ; for the mind is as free with but 
one object of choice as with thousands. 

m. But a difficulty more fatal still, if possible, to this theory of 
blending the conscience with the will, in order to produce freedom, 
lie- in'this : If the conscience be made to enter into and constitute the 
will as an element of its being, and activity, and freedom, then the 
law of right is destroyed ; conscience, as a law over the will, is 
thereby destroyed ; for that which gives and constitutes the will, cannot 
be a law over the will ; that which makes freedom, cannot be a law 
over freedom ; that which gives and constitutes activity, cannot be a 
law over activity ; for a moral law over the mind implies the freedom 
and activity of the mind already complete. Conscience is a law over 
a mind already free, and not an element in an Otherwise incomplete or 
non-existent mind. Therefore the attempt to place the beginning. of the 
mind's activity in the conscience is doubly a failure. In none of these 
ways can the ndnd be found to have any freedom or real activity 
whatever. The beginning of its activity cannot be found in the will, 
the affections, or the conscience, or in any combination of any or all of 
them. 

n. The true source of the mind's activity is in its own essence, 



THE WILL. 21 

in one of its own primal elements unborrowed from any outward or ad- 
ditional source, and uncompounded of any of its own faculties, but 
existing before them all, and the producer of them all. 

o. The essential activity of the mind, which is the true source of its 
own original, independent, and free action, lies deeper than the con- 
science, the affections, or the will, and is derived from neither of 
them, but exists before all of them, and is the cause of them. The 
mind must have a spring of action in itself, in its own essence, deeper 
than the will, the affections, or the conscience, and which must be 
before they can exist, and must act before they can act, and be the root 
and source of their essence and life. The clew and some showing of the 
true nature of liberty are here given, as the title intimates. That clew 
is the essential activity. 

SECT. III. HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO KNOW, OR WHAT IS THE 
TliUE NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS? 

a. That the mind's knowledge does not begin in the senses nor in the 
reason, is obvious from the fact that all systems of mental philosophy 
which proceed on either of these assumptions find themselves reasoning 
in a vicious circle, and ending in absurdity. 

b. 1. For, let it be supposed that our knowledge begins with the 
perceptions of the senses, and let it be undertaken from them 'to dis- 
cover the ideas of the reason, or any external object whatever, , we are 
instantly confronted with the fact, that we cannot have a perception 
through the senses at all, except through the medium of an idea already 
known, and in the possession of the mind ; for all knowing of external 
things consists simply in this; viz., the interpreting of a fact by an idea or a 
conception. We have no power, therefore, of knowing what a sensation 
is, except by means of an idea already in the mind with which to know it. 

c. As no one can translate a Latin word into English without first 
knowing both the English and the Latin, so no one can know what an 
unknown object is, which is presented by the perceptive faculty of the 
senses, i. e., physical resistance and the senses, without having an idea 
of the thing beforehand in the mind. Indeed, all we learn of an object 
by the senses, in the first instance, is, to use a paradox, what we knew 
of it before by the idea we already had in the mind. I must first have 
an idea of an object in my mind, before I can comprehend or translate 
the unknown phenomena of that object which the senses present to me. 

d. Thus, by beginning with the senses, the mind can, manifestly, 
never know anything ; no knowledge can ever find way into the mind in 
this manner. All that presents itself to any of the senses is an undis- 
criminated and unknown mass, a jargon, so to speak, of some unknown 



22 AUTOLOGY. 

language, unless the corresponding ideas of these objects be already in 
the mind with which to translate these unknown things, and tell what 
they arc and what they mean. The senses, therefore, can never be 
made the starting-point of our knowing. We never can begin to know 
through them, but must already have a beginning of knowledge from 
some other source. 

e. We have stated that in order to translate one language into 

another, we musl first know both ; to knew eitheralone would not enable 

ii- to translate. If 1 should pronounce the word "horse" in the ears 
Of a German, and he should pronounce the word "Spferb" in my hear- 
in.:-, neither of us would have any knowledge of what the other had 
said; bul if a horse were standing in sight, and we each should point 
to it when we pronounced the name, we should each know what tho 
other meant. 

/'. .lust so something must stand between the object presented by the 
senses and the reason within. That something must be the idea of 
the thing thus presented ; and when the reason sees that the thing thus 
presented corresponds to thai idea, then it knows what it is, that is, knows 
all that it is capable of knowing ol anything without, further external 
experience; but without these ideas it can know absolutely nothing. 
Our knowing, therefore, can never begin in the senses; Cor we must 
have ideas before we can translate the senses; they can do nothing 
without the help of a higher faculty. 

y. •_'. Turning, then, from this method, let it be supposed that the 

attempt is mad.' to begi r knowing with the faculty of the Reason. 

A difficulty meets us at once : lor the Reason has neither facts nor ideas 
in itself, inn- in its possession, nor any power "1' obtaining them by its 
own proper faculty or force. The Reason can only form ideas from facts 
which are already, and beforehand, given to it by another faculty of the 
mind ;• or employ those ideas, when thus formed, in cognizing- external 
objects brought before it by the senses ; it has no power in itself, as a 
faculty, either to grasp a fact, or to create an idea without a fact. 
Knowing cannot, therefore, begin in the Keason. 

h. 3. But, relinquishing this method, let it be supposed that we attempt 
to begin our knowledge with what are called the a priori ideas, which 
are found already in the mind, such as quantity, quality; or relation, 
and with them stand ready to cognize any object or event that the per- 
ceptive faculty of the senses may bring before us. 

i. But here, again, we are met with a difficulty ; it is this : How can 
we have an idea without first having had a fact or thing? For an idea 
must be an idea of something ; if it be an idea of nothing, it is itself 
nothing. How can I have an idea of an object before I know what that 
object is ? It is absurd to say that I can have an idea of a thing without 



THE WILL. 23 

which is substantially that thing. 
We have no more right to say that ideas of external facts or things are 
a part t»f the mind's original furniture, than to say that external facts or 
things themselves are a part of its original furniture. All the ground we 
have for saying either, is the fact that we find the mind in possession of 
ideas, and this may be affirmed of the one as well as of the other. The 
idealists do assume both. 

j. The question, however, is, How came we by them ? Now, which- 
soever of these methods we take, we are driven to reason in a circle ; 
either to assume the idea to prove the fact, or the fact to. prove the idea. 
If I start with the fact and seek the idea, I have already had and used 
the idea in finding the fact. If I start with the idea and seek the fact, 
I find I have already had and used the fact in obtaining the idea. 

k. Now, from neither of'- the above sources does it appear that the 
mind can know anything. It is perpetually moving round and round in 
a dizzy circle, seeking rest and finding none ; seeking to prove one illu- 
sion by another, each of which is ever slipping from its grasp, seeking 
an idea for a fact, and a fact for an idea, neither of which it can have 
without having had the other first, and neither of which can be given by 
its appropriate faculty ; that is, the senses alone cannot give a fact ; the 
reason alone cannot give an idea. There must first exist both a fact 
and an idea before any external thing can be known. 

I. It is manifest, therefore, that neither the senses alone, nor the 
reason alone, can ever begin to know anything, nor can they prove that 
the mind is competent to know anything whatever. Nor can they act 
together ; neither of them can act until the other has first acted. They 
cannot act simultaneously, for they each require the -product of the 
other's action before the}' can act ; the sense cannot act until there is 
first an idea ; the reason cannot act until there is first a fact; Neither, 
therefore, can produce these necessary things for the other, and, con- 
sequently, they can neither singly nor jointly begin to know anything. 

m. A higher and more ultimate faculty than either is necessary to 
enable the mind to begin to know anything. There is needed a faculty 
which has in itself a power of cognition without ideas, on the one hand, 
and without sense perceptions, on the other ; a primary and intuitive 
faculty, lying back of both the sense perception and the reason, and 
more central and ultimate than either, which shall be able to arrive at 
the results of both without the help of either. 

n. Such a faculty alone can be the starting-point of our knowledge : 
a faculty that can first give a fact without either an idea of the reason, 
or a perception of the senses, and thus give the basis of an idea also 
without a fact of the senses, is needed to qualify and furnish the mind 
with the means of knowing. And this will make the mind a complete 



24 AUTOLOGY. 

knower, i. e., an originator of its own knowing- ; for the facts thus given 
by this deeper and more ultimate faculty will be the basis of the ideas 

of the reason known as, but misnamed, a priori, or innate idea's ; and 
the ideas thus attained will be the means of cognizing the facts presented 
by the souses. 

o. Thus can the mind begin to know, and thus only : to say that 
the mind can have a priori, or innate ideas born with it, or conceived by 
it, is absurd ; for an idea <d' a thing is a comprehension of that thing, 
and the comprehending of a thing implies its existence present to the 
comprehender ; and to have facts by the senses, without ideas, is im- 
possible. Another and deeper faculty is needed to begin our knowledge, 
and such a faculty must, of course, he self-seeing and self-affirmed, 
having its own proof in itself, and itself being the surety for all the 
knowledge which it gives. 

p. Such a faculty wo have in a rightly understood Conxciousiirss ; a 
consciousness cognizing its appropriate objects; i. e., itself and its own 
acts. Consciousness must nol be expected to cognize external objects, 
or to know ideas, but to give us certain primary facts of the being and 
structure of tin; mind, and of the inner man, by means of its own 
essential intelligence, independent alike of the reason, on the one hand, 
and of the senses, on the other. Thus will it lay for us the true founda- 
tions of knowledge, by giving us those primitive facts which are the 
- of the ideas of the reason, by which ideas we are able to cognize 
the facts (.1' the sen8l 3. 

q. Moreover, this knowing, or beginning to know, must be a direct, 
immediate, and independent knowing and beginning to know. It must 
not be a relative or conditional knowing, or a knowing of the conditioned 
or relative as such : its knowing must not depend upon any distinguish- 
ing and conjoining process, as does that of the senses; but its affirma- 
tion must be single, original, and of simple being. It must be a know- 
ing by the knowing faculty itself alone, without any medium ; the know- 
ing faculty must come into direct contact with the thing known, and be 
identical with it ; it cannot, therefore, be relative knowing, but must be 
positive and absolute knowing. 

r. It is true that the consciousness separates the me from the not me ; 
yet its knowing of the me takes place in the first instance, and that, by a 
direct and immediate knowing, and must first be a fact, before the 
knowing of the not me can take place. The self is conscious that it is a 
self, and is conscious that it is conscious, and as it is itself the first 
legitimate object of its own knowledge, that knowledge, of course, can- 
not be relative knowledge, but must be direct and absolute ; for absolute 
knowing takes place when the knower and the known are identical ; 
relative knowing takes place when they are diverse. In absolute know- 



THE WILL. >li 

ing, the knower knows the known without a medium ; in relative know- 
ing, the knower uses a medium through which, and by which, to cognize 
the known, which is always an object diverse from itself. 

s. It is not knowing by plurality and difference as. relates to the 
knower and the known, for here the knower knows simply the knower 
and the knowing ; it is a direct, positive, and absolute knowing, a 
knowing unconditionally. It is not even a mere personal knowing, for 
the same reason that its knowing does not depend on personal or any 
conditions, except existence, but is direct and absolute. The knower 
and the known are identical, so that the knowing faculty is in direct 
and immediate and unconditional contact with the object known ; that 
is, with itself. This is immediate, absolute, and unconditional know- 
ing ; and this is what is meant by being an independent knower, and 
being able to begin to know, and not simply a passive recipient of 
knowledge, or knowing simply what our peculiar organism might 
compel us to know. 

t. This first faculty for beginning to know, we shall more fully set 
forth in another place. It is sufficient here to have shown its exist- 
ence and necessity in our mental economy. And when we have thus 
found the true source of our beginning to know and of being able to 
know anything, and have fully brought out this primary faculty in its 
appropriate place, then we shall proceed to examine the nature and 
office of the reason in the formation of ideas, and the faculty and office 
of the senses in the perception of external objects, and the act of the 
reason in cognizing, remembering, arguing, imagining, and other acts. 
In this way we shall have gone over the whole of our intellectual 
structure, and pointed out its mechanism and operations, and have shown 
that the mind can know objects by its own intelligence, and is not a 
mere lens to transmit, or mirror to reflect, what is cast upon it, but is 
an independent and absolute knower. 

u. Thus is it manifest that in order to begin to act and begin to 
know, we need the two primordial elements of essential activity and 
essential intelligence or consciousness, and that we need them both ; for 
as consciousness alone cannot give activity to the mind, so also the ac- 
tivity cannot give intelligence to the mind ; but the two combining give 
the mind both ; both the intelligence and the activity ; and these are the 
original and primordial elements of its being, constituting the same 
essence, an essence both intelligent and active, conscious and alive. 

v. Essential intelligence or consciousness, and essential activity or 
life, are the true sources of the mind's knowing and acting. By them 
alone it can begin to know and begin to act ; without them, it could 
neither know nor act at all. Thus is the necessity, and thus is the 
nature, of the two elementary and constitutive principles of the mind 



26 AUTOLOGY. 

Bhown and demonstrated. They are the true bases upoD which alone 
the superstructure of the mind can be built. They are the true starting- 
points of all investigations of.the mind, and the true stand-point from 
which to view the whole of our mental operations. 

w. What this consciousness is. and what this activity is. how they 
combine to constitute the self, giving self-consciousne6S, self-law, and 
liberty, thus making a will, and how they afterwards develop and 
-row. the one into the reason and the 3enses, and the other into. the 
affections, and both united into the conscience, and how the sell' thus 
takes on a voluntary, affectional, rational, and ethical nature, and thus 
i es a person and a soul, and in a physical body becomes buman 

and man, — all this will appear in the successive parts and chapters of 
this work. In the present chapter we seek only to disclose tin; first 
objects of our investigations; viz., the true bases upon which to con- 
struct tin- mind, ami the true stand-point from which to view all its 
operations. 



si i I IV. WHAT is Tin; FIRST OBJECT AND THE TRUE KEY OP ALL 
KNOWLEDGE, AND CAN THE MIND KNOW ABSOLUTELY AM) THE 
ABSOLU I i: : 

■. The a isw< r to these questions lias already been given in the two 
preceding sections ; indeed, it was necessarily involved in them. Espe- 
cially was it impossible to answer the question, How can the mind 

be-in i,. know ? Without Showing that the sell' was the first object of 

knowing. 

/>. In answer to thequestion, How can the mind begin to act? it was 
shown of necessity that it began in self-action. Self-acting and self- 
knowing are the beginning of the mind's living, and enter into and are 
of the essence of its being-. So important a part, however, does the 
first object of the mind's knowledge play, both in relation to the nature 
of the mind's knowing-, the extent of its knowledge, and the possibility 
of its knowing at all, that we deem it important to give it a more dis- 
tinct consideration. 

c. The error of mistaking that which is the first object of knowledge, 
is as fatal as that of mistaking the first act of knowledge. If the be- 
ginning of the mind's knowing be mistaken, all its acts of knowing will 
be mistaken. And if the first object of the mind's knowing be mista- 
ken, then will its kuowing of all objects be mistaken. What is the first 
action, and what is the first knowing, and what is the first object of 
knowledge, are questions involving each other, and which find their 
answers in the same thing ; viz., the mind itself. 

d. To the questions, then, What is the first object ? and What is th" 



THE WILL. 27 

true key of knowledge ? the reply is this: The first object of knowl- 
edge is of necessity the self; for the first work of consciousness is to 
give the consciousness of a self, a self-consciousness. The beginning 
of all knowledge is thus, of necessity, subjective. The consciousness 
is in its first act conscious of a self, and conscious that it is conscious, 
affirming thus its own being and its own knowing. 

e. By uniting this essential consciousness with the essential activity, 
the whole self becomes both active and conscious; each penetrating 
the other, and both permeating the whole self, so that it becomes a 
living, conscious unity. Activity is the principle of life, and conscious- 
ness is the principle of intelligence ; they blend in one self, which is 
both living and intelligent ; and this is the first fact and the first object 
of all knowledge. 

f. By knowing first the self, i. e., himself, man has the test of all 
knowledge, and the key of all knowledge, and the power to know all 
things. It is because the consciousness takes cognizance of itself, and 
comes into immediate contact with the self, that it knows absolutely, 
and not merely relatively. The test of absolute knowing is the identity 
of the knower and the known. It is thus that it knows absolutely, and 
finds the self absolutely, as a thing existent alone, and that without 
discriminating it from anything else. 

g. In this way it is that the consciousness knows by the direct contact 
of its intelligence with the object known, and not by distinguishing plu- 
rality and difference. It knows directly and absolutely by the embrace 
and interpenetration of the object of knowledge by its own essential 
intelligence ; and this is knowing absolutely, and this is the test that 
the knowing is reliable. The self, then, is the first object of knowledge 
to the self. 

h. Man is to himself the first great object of knowledge, and this knowl- 
edge of himself is. to him the key to all knoivledge of God and nature. 
From this knowledge of himself, obtained by the knowingness of the 
consciousness, he has first facts, from which first facts the reason forms 
ideas. And this, as we shall see in Part III., is the true and only source 
of ideas. Then, with these ideas thus obtained, in first and actual pos- 
session, and armed with the organs of sense, the mind is qualified and 
prepared to go out and cognize the whole universe, both God and 
nature. 

i. Man is, then, the first great fact in the universe of God, and is both 
the key and the keystone to the arch of all knowledge. Let man first be 
known, as he necessarily must be, then have we the facts from which all 
conceptions and ideas are formed with which to interpret the universe 
presented to us by contact and the senses. 

j. Philosophers have often failed to know rightly either man, or God, 



28 AITOLOGY. 

or nature, because they have employed the wrong fact as the starting- 
point, and as the explainer of them. They have cither taken nature, 
with which to lind out God and man, or God, with which to find out man 
and nature, and have failed, in both cases, so far as their method is con-* 
cerned, to find out anything, either of God, or nature, or man. 

h. They have taken the obscure with which to prove the plain, and 
the unknown with which to explain the known. Nature can never 
explain God, for they are unhomogeneous. Nature is thing, while God 
is person. So also Can nature never explain man for the same reason ; 

for man is person, while nature is but thing. No r can God be taken in 
the first instance to explain man or nature, because he is "unknown." 
He is an unknown quantity until firsl found oul ; ami hence all attempts 
to explain man's being or nature's existence by means of God's exist- 
ence, before God is legitimately found out and known to be, are built 

on a pure assumption. 

/. .Man is the first known quantity in the universe ; and with 
this known quantity first in possession, must we go out to find, know, 

aid explain the unknown. That unknown is God ami nature. Man is, 

as we have seen, of necessity the first objeel of knowledge, because 
the knowing faculty knows first itself, and its knowing; i. e., the con- 
sciousness is Conscious that it is conscious, and consciousness and 
activity, as the two primordial elements of the soul, mutually interpene- 
trate and encompass and pervade each other, and their working together 
is the vital and dynamical process by which the whole man is produced, 
in all his faculties, and embodied in senses. Thus is the whole per- 
sonality completed. 

m. The manhood thus generated, produced, and perfected, comes all 
at length into consciousness, and into perfect and complete knowledge, 
so that man knows himself. Then in full possession of this object of 
knowledge, with its will, affections, intellect, and conscience, as a living 1 , 
free, volitional, affectional, rational, and ethical personality, and with all 
the ideas which the reason forms from it, — ideas both of personality 
and of mere thing or nature (for man is both), — with all these as 
known quantities, as the things knowable and absolutely known, and 
belonging- to universal knowledge, man may go out from himself and 
cognize and explain the unknown God, and the unknown nature before 
him; God first, and nature afterwards ; for man, being more person than 
thing, is nearer God, and has more things in common with God than 
with nature, and more known things with which to know God than he 
has with which to know nature. 

n. God cannot be known until man is known ; nature cannot be 
known until both man and God are known. This is the grand proces- 
sion of knowledge: Man, God, nature. With man God can be found, 



THE WILL. 29 

because man is homogeneous with God, partakes of the divine nature, 
and is in God's image. With God as man's author, as a known fact and 
an explaining power, man can know nature ; for nature is conditioned 
and dependent, and neither has anything in itself on which to depend, 
nor by which to go out from itself to find a cause upon which to depend. 

o. But man, though conditioned and dependent, and having nothing 
in himself or in his regressive generations on which to depend as a 
first and permanent cause, has yet in himself a free, affectional, rational, 
and ethical personality, with which to reach out and take hold on a free, 
affectional, rational, and ethical cause, creator and author. 

p. And thus man, who finds God as the creator of himself, finds God 
as the creator of nature also ; for surely the greater implies the less ; He 
that can create man can certainly create nature ; and man can know and 
explain nature only through God.' As he can find God through man, so 
he can find nature through God; and thus man is both the first object 
of all knowledge and the only true key to all and any knowledge of 
God and nature in the universe, rpcj&i OtavTOV is, then, in a sense in 
which neither its unknown Grecian author nor any succeeding Greek 
ever suspected, not only the greatest of all injunctions, but is the one 
test, and only true key, of all possible knowledge. 

SECT. V. THE VITAL AND DYNAMICAL PROCESS OF THE MIND'S 
DEVELOPMENT AND CONSTRUCTION. 

a. The vital and dynamical process is that combination, working 
together, and coalescence of the primordial and formative elements of the 
soul, by which its several faculties are produced and developed from the 
first to the last, from the essence to the last quality, from the will to the 
conscience. 

b. This process goes forward on this wise, to wit : the essential activ- 
ity and the essential intelligence combine and work together; the activity 
becoming intelligent, and the intelligence becoming active, to produce 
self-consciousness, the self, conscious that it is conscious. Then this self 
or individuality, as a distinct element, recombines with the original 
elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, and produces 
self-law, or end of action ; then this self-law, as a distinct element, 
recombines again with the original elements, activity and intelligence, 
and with the self, and produces liberty ; then liberty, as a distinct 
element, recombines. with the four preceding; viz., activity, intelligence, 
individuality, and self-law, and produces will, which is the essence, or 
substance, of the mind. 

c. Then out of this completed will, as essence or substance, spring 
at first from the essential activity the affections as qualities ; and then, 



30 AUTOLOGY. 

from the essential intelligence springs the reason with the sense as a 
quality; arid lastly, from the essential activity and the essential intel- 
ligence, with all that they have gained by development, the one into 
affections and the other into intellect, is produced the conscience as 

the last and completing - faculty oi the mind. Here the activity and 

the intelligence cease to expand ami develop, because their work is 

done. All that was in them is embodied in a complete manhood and 
personality; and they cease, of course, just as the body, when all its 
members are produced, ceases to grow any more. 

'/. The mind as a whole then takes on the body as its lifting form, 
mould, and mode of being; and this it takes by its own vital force as 
a mind, just as the seeds of a tree or plant take each their fitting form 
or body." This is the vital, dynamical process by which the mind 
is produced, grows, takes en body, ami matures itself into completeness 
and personality. It is all a unity, and all produces one living, breath- 
ing- whole. The parts of the mind grow out of each other, and are one 
living, individual whole. Hence we call this system vital and dynamical. 
And we call it inductive, because, iii its construction, we first seek 
facts and experiments, and then baild upon them. 



CHAPTER II. 

TIIE SECOND GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, 
WHAT IS TIIE SUBSTANCE Oil ESSENCE OF TIIE MIND? 

SECT. I. CAN WE KNOW TIIE SUBSTANCE OF MATTER AND OF MIND? 

a. In this chapter we consider the mind as to substance and qualities, 
and show that the substance of the mind is essentially different from 
the substance of matter, and that the self, the self-conscious self, the 
ego, the me, the will, is the substance or essence of the mind, and. that 
it is a known substance or essence. 

b. "With regard to matter, we are said to know nothing directly and 
in the first instance but its qualities, and that because they are phenom- 
enal and cognizable by the senses, while the substance is not. And it is 
said that when we know these qualities, then we know more ; w r e know 
that they must necessarily inhere in some invisible and intangible sub- 
stance or essence, or they must be nothing but phantoms. A quality 
must be a quality of something ; for if it be a quality of nothing it 



THE WILL. 31 

must itself be nothing 1 . But qualities are something, for the reason 
that they have substance. 

c. Moreover, as we perceive phenomena or qualities to have definite 
place and fixed time, we know they must have objective, reality ; and as 
they could not have definite place or fixed time unless they did actually 

! inhere in a permanent substance, we therefore know by a judgment of 
our intellect that all qualities must have a substance ; and this cognition 
of the substance of things by the intellect is *just as certain and just as 
reliable as the perception of qualities by the senses, and the things we 
thus know are just as objectively real. For if the substance has not an 
objective reality, then the qualities cannot have an objective reality ; 
for our proof of the objective reality of phenomena lies in the fact of 
their having definite place and fixed time ; but these they could not 
have if they did not inhere in an objective and permanent substance. 
The fact, then, that qualities have definite place and fixed time is .proof 
that they have an objective and real substance in which they inhere. 
This is the usual argument, and is regarded as conclusive. 

d. But is it necessary ? Can we not know the substance of mate- 
rial and objective things directly, not of course by the senses, but by 
contact ? How know we the fact that qualities have fixed place and 
time ? Surely not by the senses, but by contact, a contact which 
demonstrates to us by experiment that well-known truism, that two 
objects cannot occupy one and the same place at one and the same time. 
Now, it is here not the qualities that resist lis, *but the substance. 
For we cannot know qualities except by sensation, which distin- 
guishes them ; but contact may be so sudden as not to wait for sensa- 
tion, or so violent as to destroy it altogether. Yet the assured experi- 
ment of a physical resistance demonstrating that two objects cannot 
occupy one and the same space at the same time, stands complete. 

e. It is, therefore, not the senses, but contact, that teaches us impene- 
trability ; nor is it the qualities of things that resist us, but their sub- 
stances, for as yet we have no knowledge that any qualities exist. They 
cannot be known until the contact is examined by the senses. Contact 
is produced by simple physical resistance, and this, indeed, is that which 
enables us to know that an object is now and here in fixed time and 
place. 

/. Thus the argument and the experiment prove the same thing. 
To say, therefore, on the one hand, that all that is knowable of any 
object, is its qualities, and then to say, on the other hand, that we can 
know nothing of objects but their qualities, are only two ways of utter- 
ing the same false and gratuitous assertion. This is simply making a 
definition beforehand to suit an assertion, and then making the assertion, 
both of which are false. It is simply self-stultification; for it. is not 



32 AUTOLOGY. 

true thai we know nothing of objects but their qualities. It is not true 
that all the kuowable of any objecl is its qualities ; for we know the 
i mces also of both mind and matter, as we shall see. 

]>o we, then, know what the Substance el' matter is ? We knew, at. 

least, this; that it is, and that it is a blind force, impenetrable, ami 
that it holds the qualities of matter in inherence; ami this we know by 
contact anil experiment, not waiting tor sensation or argument. 

g. 1. We now turn to the mind, and affirm that it must also he made 
up "I substances and qualities, lor the same reason that matter is so 

constituted. 2. Bui the question here arises. What is the substance, 
and what arc the qualities of the mind ? Are they the same as those 
of matter, or do they differ? 3. Do we know anything more of the 
mind than we do of matter? I. Eave we any means «,)' acquainting 
ourselves with mind which we have not of acquainting ourselves with 
matter ? 

h. These questions we shall now take up in order, beginning with 
the last, to wit : Have we any means of acquainting ourselves with the 
mind which we have not of knowing matter? 

i, '1'.. thi-- it is replied, We come to a knowledge of matter by contact 
ami experiment, and then by the faculties of sensation and reasoning; 

that i-. the soiis.-s and the intellect proper. These are the whole of 

our faculties for knowing either the qualities of matter or the substance 

of matter; that is, all our knowledge of matter must come through 
. 
j. But, for knowing the mind, we have the additional ami well- 
known faculty of consciousness ; and this consciousness brings us to a 
knowledge of the mind far more intimate and essential than can any of 
the other facultii 

k. It is true that consciousness takes cognizance of the action and 
of the reports of all the other faculties, and thus plays an essential part 
in all our knowing through all our faculties. But in knowing the mind, 
it performs, as we shall see, a work of its own, independent of the 
other faculties, and which it cannot perform in relation to any object out 
of itself. 

I. By consciousness man knows that he is a self, and becomes self- 
conscious. Consciousness is essentially self-seeing, sees the seeing and 
the seer. No other faculty could give us this knowledge and this self- 
consciousness, this seeing ourself, our own essence and substance. 

m. And this self-seeing it is which gives us the clearest mark by 
which the mind is distinguished from matter. 

This faculty gives us peculiar power in the investigation of the 
mind, and with it we proceed to the second point ; viz., What is the 

SUBSTANCE OF THE MIND ? 



THE WILL. 33 

SECT. .II. IS THE SUBSTANCE OF THE MIND THE SAME AS THE 
SUBSTANCE OF MATTER? 

a. This interrogation raises the deeper question, What is substance, 
and how does substance differ from qualities ? 

b. The reply manifestly is, that substance is that which is essential 
to being. The substance of a thing is that which is essential to the be- 
ing of that thing. 

c. The qualities of a thing are things peculiar to it, yet which are not 
essential to its being. 

d. To speak of qualities without which a thing cannot be thought as 
existing, is to commit the absurdity of placing the qualities for the 
substance. The moment anything is regarded as essential to the nature 
and existence of a thing, that moment it becomes of the substance, and 
is not a quality of that thing. 

e. Now, the substance of matter, we know, must consist of these two 
things ; viz., impenetrability and essential force holding the qualities in 
inherence. These are the two elements of the substance or essence of 
matter, which are essential to its existence, and to the existence of 
qualities. 

f. When we speak of matter as a whole, we may say that, as a 
whole, both substance and qualities, it has impenetrability or irre- 
ducibleness, or it has that in it which prevents that two objects should 
occupy one and the same space at one and the same time, and that this 
is a primary quality of matter. 

g. This, however, is to give to a quality the nature of an essence 
or substance ; and hence, when we separate substance and quality we 
must say that substance is an impenetrable force, and that force and 
impenetrability are the elements of substance ; and we know this, not 
by reason, but by contact and sensation in experiment. 

h. These elements, as we shall more fully see hereafter, inhere in 
each other ; not in a substance lying deeper than they, but in each 
other. An essence or substance, as such, may have constituent ele- 
ments, though not constituent qualities, and these elements inhere, not 
in a substance, but in each other, and thus constitute the substance in 
which qualities inhere. A blind and essential force holding qualities in 
inherence and the essential impenetrability of nature constitute the sub- 
stance of matter, and this we know by experience in contact and sen- 
sation. 

i. Is the substance of the mind the same, or does it differ ? To this 

it is replied, that we know that the substance of the mind must be a 

force sufficient to hold the qualities of the mind in inherence, and that it 

must be impenetrable, just as we know the same things of matter ; but 

5 



34 AUTOLOGY. 

by the aid of the consciousness we kn >w more. By consciousness the 

mind knows that it is a self, that it is self-conscious, that it is conscioufl 
that it is conscious ; it knows that it knows. 

j. Now, in the 'two parts of this compound sentence — "I am con- 
scious that 1 am conscious " — we have the affirmation of a Belf-affirmed 
consciousness ami a self-affirmed substance, ami that this substance is a 
self-conscious sell'. Hero subject ami object, knowing ami being, meet 
ami are identical. 

L. Furthermore, this self must bo either the substance o\' the mint] in 
which qualities inhere, or it must be a quality of the mind inhering itself 
in some substance. Consciousness claims (he self as a substance, a %elf 
conscious substance in which the qualities of the mind info re. 

I. The substance of the mind differs therefore from the substance of 
nature in that it is a self-conscious substance ; a self, conscious that it is 
conscious, knowing that it knows; i. c, a self-seeing- essence, a self-know- 
ing substance. 

m. And what is here claimed by consciousness is confirmed by the 
decision of the reasoning faculty. For the self, of which we are con- 
scious, cannol be a quality of itself, for consciousness claims it as a 
whole self: nor can it be made up of any Dumber of qualities, or of 
all the qualities combined, for after the mind has awakened to the con- 
sciousness that it is a self, the qualities of such a mind might be increased 
indefinitely, or decreased to this single fact of consciousness, and still it 
would be a self, ■ r (hat it is conscious, knowing that it is, and 

knowing that it knows, a self-affirming substance, affirming both itself 
ami its quality of "being- conscious that it is conscious;'' its identity 
would still remain. 

n. An individual may lose his intelligence, his affectionateness, his 
moralization, his electiveness, and still retain his consciousness that ho 
is a self. He may, in other words, lose all his faculties, his intellect may 
be gone, his affections blunted, his conscience become inoperative, and 
his power of choice be altogether lost, yet still he will retain, in the 
fullest degree, his consciousness that he is a self; nay, his consciousness 
of his own individuality may be thereby increased. This is notoriously 
the case. Self-consciousness, eelf-conceit, and selfishness increase, as 
intelligence, and affection, and conscientiousness decrease. 

o. Moreover, it would be a contradiction in terms to affirm that the 
self could ever be an attribute or quality of the self; for a thing can 
never be its own quality. And observe, the consciousness here gives 
the self as a whole, as an entirety, and not as a 'part, and as a self< 
conscious whole, conscious that it is conscious. To say, therefore, that 
the self of which I am conscious, and which is conscious that it is con- 
scious, is a quality of a self of which I am not conscious, is absurd 



THE WILL. 35 

The self, therefore, must be the essence or substance of the mind, a self- 
conscious essence, self-seeing 1 , conscious that it is conscious. It is 
emphatically and cleai-ly the me of which certain qualities may be 
affirmed ; the me which sees itself to be, before those qualities can be, 
and which continues when they are gone. 

p. Thus our self is the substance of the mind, and is that of which 
we become conscious originally by its own activity and intelligence, and 
chronologically to our recollections, it may be, by the perception of some 
external object. But this consciousness, we know, must have existed 
before such event did take place, and we know that without it it could 
not possibly have taken place, and we know that it, must remain also 
when such events and the occasion for them are passed away. 

q. The event of our perceiving an external object did not create our 
self-consciousness, nor can the non-occurrence of it take it away. It 
remains self-affirmed by a self-active, self-inteliigent self, conscious that 
it is conscious, affirming thereby both its own substance and its own 
primary quality. 

r. And let it here be particularly observed that if the consciousness 
does not see and know the essence of self as well as its qualities, then 
it affirms a falsehood. Now, the consciousness affirms self-consciousness; 
i. e., it sees itself; but if there is anything essential to the self which 
consciousness does not know while it claims to know the self, then in 
affirming that it knows the self as it does in the act of self-conscious- 
ness, it is guilty of falsehood. And certainly the essence of self is 
essential to self; how, then, can consciousness truthfully affirm self-con- 
sciousness without knowing the essence of self? 

s. Will it be said that we may truthfully affirm the existence of a 
thing by knowing only its qualities, without knowing its essence or 
substance ? It is replied, we may by using the faculty of reasoning-, 
which always infers a substance or essence where we find a quality. But 
in this case, we have only the consciousness at work which is incapable 
of reasoning, and knows directly and intuitively the things only with 
which it comes into immediate contact ; therefore the consciousness in 
affirming the self affirms only what it knows of its own proper knowledge, 
and in its own way of knowing ; and since it affirms the self, it affirms 
it as a matter of consciousness, and not of reason ; and since it affirms a 
self, it affirms a whole self, and not a part of one. 

t. It affirms therefore both essence and qualities, both the self and 
the essence of self, as well as the self and the qualities of self. For if 
the essence were not affirmed it would not be a self, and the conscious- 
ness in affirming it would be' guilty of falsehood. The veracity of con- 
sciousness is therefore pledged for the fact that the essence of the mind 
is a self, not only, but a known essence, a self-conscious essence, an 



36 ' AUTOLOGY. 

ing itself. Consciousness, then, knows the self, both as Bab- 
stance and quality. 

• i. Furthermore, if the consciousness is qo1 self-seeing, how can the 
mind become a subject of knowledge to itself? how can it become its 
own object of thought and investigation? This question [Cant raises, 
and leaves as a great mystery; and well he might, for he denies «to the 
consciousness any other office than that of taking note of the opera- 
of the other faculties. But oven in this position he is self-contra- 
dictory, for he denies that the same consciousness which he holds to be 
reporter to the self, knows or can give any knowledge of the self to 
which it reports; nol Beeing that it could not cognize anything, until 
it first cognized itself as a cognizer, or report anything to itself until it 
had first reported itself as reporter to itself. 

r. That the consciousness should firsl Bee itself, before it can see 
anything else, and first reDort itself to itself before it can report any- 
thin-- else to itself, is here rery obvious. It is then proved by 
the fad of its seeing and reporting other things to itself, that it must 
first have seen and reported itself to itsi If 

to. Moreover this self-conscious self which is the substance or < 
of the mind lias also, as has the substance of matter, the elements of 
impenetrability. For, let two persons Bitting opposite each other be 
instantaneously disembodied ; let them stand as pure spirits; and the 
self-consciousness of the one would exclude and repel the self-conscious- 
f the other; they would still occupy space in relation to one 
another, and as pure spirits they would have mutual impenetrability 
just as much as when embodied. They would occupy space just as 
much in relation to all other realities as when they were human beings, 
having flesh, and bones, and blood. 

X. The same would be true of any two material forces which hold 
qualities in inherence. Take away the qualities and the forcfi remains, as 
over, impenetrable. Impenetrability is therefore not a quality of matter 
or of the mind, but is an element in the substance of each. 

SECT. III. IS THE SUBSTANCE OF THE MIND DISTINCT FROM THE 
QUALITIES OF THE MIND? 

a. By consciousness the mind knows itself, and knows its own pro- 
cesses ; and it must know each separately before it can know the relations 
that exist between them, and hence the self as substance must be con- 
scious of itself ' before it can be conscious of its qualities. 

b. The consciousness takes cognizance of the self immediately. It 
also takes cognizance of the action of all the faculties or qualities 
which inhere in the self, for " the faculties of the mind " is only another 



THE WILL. 37 

name for the qualities of the mind. It takes cognizance also of all the 
knowledge which is attained by such qualities or faculties ; as, for 
instance, the act of perceiving an external object. 

c. By first knowing that we are a' self, we are able to know that the 
act of perceiving is referable to that self as the act of one of its own 
faculties or qualities, and that the knowledge thus attained is its own 
knowledge. 

d. The self is thus the substance in which the qualities or faculties 
inhere. A quality or faculty is only a part of me, and if lost is 
no part of me ; but the permanent and abiding substance in which all 
these qualities inhere, that is the essential me, the ego. or self. 

e. We then, know more of the substance of the mind than we do 
of the substance of matter, and can better distinguish it from its qualities. 
We know by experiment through contact aifd sensation, and also by the 
processes of the intellect, that the substance of the mind, like the sub- 
stance of matter, must be an impenetrable force, capable of holding its 
qualities in inherence. 

/. But by the aid of consciousness we know more. We know that 
the substance of the mind is a self-conscious substance or self, a self- 
conscious self; so that the consciousness by means of this self-conscious 
substance is capable of extending our knowledge beyond the limits of 
our other faculties in this direction ; and thus we know more of the mind 
than we do of matter, and find it to be totally different therefrom, both 
in qualities and in substance. We find by consciousness that the me, 
or self is the substance of the mind, and that all the qualities or faculties 
inhere in it as their substance. The substance of the mind is thus, 
manifestly, distinct and distinguishable from the qualities of the mind, and 
has an independent life which they neither give nor can extinguish. 

g. Will it here be objected that self-consciousness is a quality of the 
self, and that the self through it performs a function, that is, the function 
of being self-conscious, and that therefore the self cannot be the sub- 
stance or essence in which the qualities inhere? The reply is, first, that 
self-consciousness cannot by its own nature be a quality, but must be an 
essence ; for it is conscious of itself, and it is conscious that it is con- 
scious of itself, and this self-consciousness does not refer to any higher 
source, but directly and clearly to itself. 

h. It thus affirms itself necessarily as its own essence ; self-affirmation 
is the very nature of self-consciousness. The eye sees, but it does not 
see itself, nor does it affirm that it sees itself; but it affirms that it sees 
something out of itself and utterly distinct from itself. If it does not 
do this, it is no seeing at all, but only an illusion. On the contrary, 
self-consciousness is self-seeing in its own nature; and unless^' it sees 
itself it sees nothing; all is illusion. 



38 AUTOLOGY. 

i. Therefore the self-consciousness affirms, directly ana necessarily, 

sence and substance of the self, and is nol a mere quality of the 

Belf affirming itself as a quality. The self affirms that it sees the self, 

and that it is conscious of seeing the self. The self sees the self, and it 

• aa1 it sees the self. 

j. Secondly, to the objection that self-consciousness is itself a quality 
self, and that the self through it performs ;i function, it is replied, 
that it is true also of the substance of matter that it performs a function, 
!■•!• it is a blind force holding the properties'of matter in inherence. This 
holding of the properties of matter in inherence is a function of the sub- 
Btance that so holds them. Hew then, we might ask, can this fprce be 
the substance that holds the qualities in inherence? It the objection is 
good in the one case, it is good in the other. But it is good against 
neither. The fact is, that the substance of matter is, in its own nature, 
a force, and holds by this force the qualities oJ matter in inherence; and 
bo also is the substance of the mind a force, a self-conscious force, 

/. it' it be said that force implies a something that has force, and that 
force is a quality of that something, bo be it. Still that something is 
it would not be a substance without this force, 01 without perform- 
ing the act of holding the qualities in inherence. Essence is force, and 
without this force and without using it thus, it would cease to be, 

I her. 
/. Just BO Of the sid. stance of the mind. It is a foive, a sell'-cnn- 

Bcious force. It is a self, and is conscious thai it is a self; and it, like 
ibstance of matter, is a force holding- the qualities of the mind in 
inherence. Without this it could not be a substance at all ; it would be 
nothing. But if the quality of force, and the function of holding the 
other qualities of the mind in inherence, do nol destroy its nature- as a 
Bubstance, how shall the consciousness, and the function of being con- 
scious that it is conscious, and conscious that it is a force thus holding 
the qualities of the mind in inherence, destroy its nature as a substance ? 
Manifestly it does not. 

in. Now, consciousness penetrates and permeates this force that holds 
the qualities of the mind in inherence, and renders it both luminous, and 
intelligible, and intelligent; and this self-consciousness it is, that adds the 
peculiar characteristic to the substance of the mind, as distinguished 
from the substance of matter. 

a. Mind and matter, let it never be forgotten, are essentially different 
and distinct from each other, both in substance and in qualities ; for the 
mipd has in it spirit, life, and force, while matter has in it only force. 
The substance of the mind is also a self-conscious spirit, life, and force, 
a self which holds the faculties of the mind in conscious inherence, 
while the substance of matter is a mere unconscious force. Obviously, 



THE WILL. 39 

therefore, the substance of the mind is not only cognizable, but distin- 
guishable from the faculties that inhere in it. 

SECT. IV. THE DIFFEKENCE BETWEEN QUALITIES AND FACULTIES 

OF THE MIND. 

H 

a. At first thought there would seem to be a real difference not only, 
but the difference of quality and quantity. On closer examination, how- 
ever, it appears to vanish, or be only nominal. If I say of. the mind, 
that it is voluntary, that it is affectional, that it is intelligent, that it is 
moral, I very clearly speak of qualities. But if I say of the same mind, 
and in allusion to the same thing, that it has affections, intellect, and con- 
science, I speak of faculties, or constituents of the mind which make up 
its quantity rather than its quality. 

6. If I say of the will that it is arbitrary, of the affections that they 
are pure, of the intellect that it is clear, of the conscience that it is ten- 
der, I speak of qualities in these faculties. If I say of the whole man, 
that he is a man of strong and resolute will, of a clear head, of a kind 
heart, of a pure conscience, I speak of qualities in the man. It is obvious, 
therefore, that we may treat the faculties of the mind as qualities or con- 
stituents, inhering in the self as its centre, essence, or substance, the 
distinction of faculty and quality, or of constituent and quality, being in 
this respect not very distinctly marked. 

c. The question as to whether a property of the mind is to be re- 
garded as a quality or a faculty depends altogether on the light in which, 
for the time being, we are considering it. When we regard it as a 
quality, we look at the mind as a whole, in which it inheres and through 
which it is diffused as a whole. When we regard the same thing as a 
faculty, we consider it as a constituent, a part of a whole, separate, and 
going to make up the whole as a quantity. As faculties or constituents 
we should range them under the head or category of Quantity, and con- 
sider them as a unity, plurality, and totality. As quantities we should 
of course range them under the head or category of Quality, as reality, 
particularity, peculiarity. They are manifestly both or either, and may 
be treated as such. 

d. Just as the affections, when considered as a whole, as one mass, 
may be regarded as having the qualities of desirefulness, trustfulness, 
hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness, — or when 
analyzed may be regarded as having the several constituents of desire- 
fulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reveren- 
tialness, as separate faculties of affection, and parts making up the one 
whole of the affectional nature as a quantity, — so may the faculty of the 
mind be treated. 



40 AUTOLOCY. 

- . W"e say, therefore, that the self is the centre and substance or< 
of the mind, aud shall hereafter show thai this self is identical with the 
will, and that thus the will or self is the essence or substance of the 
mind in which all the faculties inhere as qualities in a substance, or as 
constituents in a common centre. 

/. We shall first analy/.c and explain the will as centre and substance 
of the mind ; then will come the affections, intellect, and conscience, as 
qualities or faculties inhering in it. and while distinct, commingling as 
one whole. To say that the mind has the faculty of knowing, or the 
quality of intelligence, is one and the same thing, To say that the mind 
has the faculty of affection, or the quality of feeling, is one and the 
same thing-. To say that the mind has the faculty of conscience or the 
quality of discerning and being affected by mural differences, is the same 
thing. We therefore hold that it is both correct and intelligible to call 
the faculties of the mind the qualities of the mind, and to regard them 
as inhering in the self as the substance of the mind. The faculties of 
the mind are all distinguishable, but net separable; they constitute but 
one whole, whether as substance and qualities, or as substance and 
constituents, or as centre and faculties. Holding, then, the self as centre, 
substance, or essence of the mind, and identical with the will, as we 
shall soon see, and the affections, intellect, and conscience, as faculties or 
qualities, constituents or properties inhering in it and constituting 1 one 
whole, and to be treated a- such, and all to be regarded as of one unity, 
inseparable though distinguishable, deriving their life from one centre 
and spring, the Belf, or will, we come, in the next place, to consider the 
difference between qualities and elements. 

SECT. V. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN QUALITIES AND ELEMENTS. 

a. Qualities inhere in a substance lying beneath and supporting them 
as a higher unity. Elements inhere in each other, and not in any 
deeper lying substance. 

b. But this distinction needs to be more fully considered. 

As the self has force, and consciousness, and other elements, as .we 
shall hereafter find, and as it performs various functions by means of 
these elements, must it not itself have a substance, which would be a 
sub-substance in which these elements must inhere ? It is replied, that 
these elements inhere in each other. They are not qualities, but ele- 
ments; and all elements are mutually inherent, and do not inhere in a 
common substance. This distinction is of the greatest importance, and 
goes to the very centre of this subject not only, but of all philosophy. 

c. This would be found true also of the substance of matter as well 
as of the substance of the mind. But our only means of knowing 



THE WILL. 41 

what tlie substance of matter is, is contact and sensation ; the one 
showing substance, and the other the qualities which inhere in it, and 
the reason inferring substance where there is quality ; whereas of the 
mind we know what are the elements of its substance by means of 
consciousness, which is itself an element of the substance of the mind ; 
and being in itself essentially intelligent, that is, conscious that it is 
conscious, it must of necessity, as it permeates the other elements of 
the substance also, not only know itself, but give a knowledge also 
of all the elements of the substance of the mind ; and it knows the 
substance of the mind to be essentially active or alive, and essentially 
intelligent or conscious. 

d. Thus we see that the mind is not to, be judged of or explained 
according to the analogies of matter ; that it is altogether out of the 
world of matter, and that the substance of the mind is in kind totally 
and generically different from the substance of matter. It is in no respect 
like it, though the relation of the substance to the qualities of the mind 
is analogous to that of the substance of matter to the qualities of mat- 
ter. The mind is no part of nature, and is not at all subject to its laws. 
Both its substance and its qualities are sui generis, and what might be a 
contradiction in nature is a harmony in the mind. 

e. That the essence of the mind is alive and is conscious, is that 
which distinguishes it from the essence of matter; it must be alive 
and conscious, or it cannot exist at all. This is the difference between 
spirit and nature ; and the mind is spirit, and not nature, nor of nature, 
but of God, who is a spirit. 

It is sufficient here to establish the distinct being of the self as sub- 
stance of the jnind, and the relation between it and the qualities or fac- 
ulties of the mind ; for by the qualities we mean the faculties. 

/. The self is the centre and substance of the mind ; all the faculties 
spring out of it and inhere in it, and the relation is precisely that of 
substance and quality. The fact that the substance of the mind is 
alive, a self-conscious self or force, and that the qualities of the mind are 
faculties, such as reason, affections, conscience, does not alter this rela- 
tion. We set down the self or will as the substance of the mind, hav- 
ing primal elements, as activity and consciousness, and also the power 
of holding the faculties of reason, affection, and conscience in inherence 
in it as qualities. And we shall pursue this discussion according to 
this division. The importance and value of this classification, and of 
the distinctions which it makes, will appear more fully when we come 
to take up the faculties of the mind separately. 

g. The mind, though thus made up, is still a unit, and though a unit, 
is still made up of many faculties, capable of performing various func- 
tions, and all centring in one and the same substance or self. 



42 AUTOLOGY. 

h. We regard it as more intelligible, and more philosophically correct, 
to speak of the mind as made up of different faculties, and of the oper- 
ations of the mind as performed by these various faculties that inhere 
in the one self or common substance of the mind, than to speak of the 
one indivisible mind in different states ; though the mind is, in either 
case, the one indivisible unity in being and in action. 

SECT. VI. CONCLUSION. 

a. We shall now proceed to analyze the self, which we have found 
to be the substance of the mind, and to find of what elements it is 
composed, and how it develops itself into a complete will. 

We have already discerned that it has the elements of activity and 
consciousness. These and other elements we shall investigate more 
fully in the next chapter, especially in Chapters V. and VI., and en- 
deavor to define them more clearly, and to ascertain how they are com- 
bined, so as to constitute a complete will, and especially how all the 
elements of the self inhere in each other, and not in any unknown sub- 
stance, and also what important functions this self may perform, as 
substance and will, by its own power and in its own right, in the econ- 
omy of the mind, over and above holding the faculties of the mind in 
inherence and taking note of what they do. 

b. - Our first inquiry will be this : What is the relation of this self, 
which we have now discovered to be the substance of the mind, to the 
will ? In order to this, we shall first find what the act of choice is, and 
what faculty of the mind it is that performs it. 

c. That we may do this, we shall examine the whole mental process 
that precedes and leads to the act of choice, and mark the nature of the 
steps taken in this process, and the faculties by which they are taken, 
that we may come to the act of choice itself, and the faculty that per- 
forms it, and make them stand out distinctly before the mind. 

d. After making this detour of investigation, we shall find ourselves 
led by it back to the point arrived at in the investigations of this chap- 
ter, and shall then, with additional light, proceed to investigate the will 
and its elements, and to learn more fully its nature and office. 



THE WILL. , 43 



CHAPTER III. 

THE THIRD GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS] WHAT 
IS CHOICE? • 

SECT. I. WHAT IS THE PEOCESS AND WHAT AEE THE ANTECEDENTS 
TO CHOICE? 

a. The inquiry of this chapter is, What is choice ? This question 
leads to the next : — With what faculty is choice performed ? In order 
to answer this latter question we must first answer the former : — What 
is choice ? This we shall now attempt to do in two sections. 

Sect. 1. What are the process and antecedents to choice ? 
Sect. 2.' What is the act itself of choice ? 

b. Beginning- with the first, we inquire, What is the process and what 
are the antecedents to choice ? In order to answer this question intel- 
ligently, it will be necessary to separate the act of choice from all the 
other acts of the mind ; and thus, by eliminating it from them, we may 
ascertain what the particular act of choice is, what its nature is, and 
what faculty of the mind it is that performs it, and what kind of a 
faculty that must be which can thus choose. 

c. To effect this separation of the act of choice from all others, it will 
be necessary to draw out at length the whole of the mental process 
preceding and terminating in the act of choice. Thus will both the act 
and the faculty of choice be disclosed. We shall then be prepared to 
answer the question of the next chapter; viz., With what faculty is the 
act of choice performed ? Is it performed by the self, or substance, or 
essence of the mind, or by some faculty or quality inhering in that self, 
substance, or essence? 

d. What, then, are the mental steps by which we come to the act of 
choice ? Any attentive observer of the process by which an act of 
choice is finally reached, and of the conditions under which it is put 
forth, cannot fail to mark these several steps : — 

1. A sensation. 5. A moralizing. 

2. A cognition. 6. A selecting. 

3. An affection. • 7. A choosing. 

4. A judging. 

e. Each of these is a separate act of the mind, or class of acts, 
and each is performed by a distinct faculty of the mind. Of each of 



44 AUTOLOGY. 

these acts the mind is distinctly conscious in a full and complete process, 
through all the mental steps antecedent to choice, and including it ; 
although in some instances the nature of the object of choice may not 
call all these antecedents into action, and although different objects of 
choice will call out the action of different faculties according to their 
nature. 

/. Now, as the mind is conscious of sensating an object of choice 
brought before it, so also is it of cognizing it, and as of cognizing, so 
also of affectioning it, that is, of feeling some sort of affection or emotion 
with regard to it. 

These affections are individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, ses- 
thetical, and religious, and the emotion with regard to the object is 
correspondent to them respectively, according to the object of choice 
presented. And as the mind is thus conscious of affectioning its object 
according to its nature, so is it also conscious of judging of an object in 
relation to any one of these affections, when that object is brought 
before it. And as of judging, so also is the mind conscious of moral- 
izing as to the right or wrong of the act of choosing it. And as of this, 
so also is it conscious of selecting an object of choice, and setting it out 
distinctly before the mind in all its properties and relations, as the thing, 
on the whole, best to be chosen ; and, last of all, the mind is conscious, 
of choosing. 

g. The evidence of each of these acts of the mind in the process 
anteceding the act of choice, and of the act of choice itself, and of their 
being distinct and different from each other, is alike in the consciousness 
and in the reason, whose testimony may be consulted by all, and put 
to the severest test of experiment. 

We sensate and cognize one or more objects of choice ; we are 
conscious of some affection or emotion favorable or unfavorable with 
regard to them ; we pause and judge in view of these affections ; we 
then moralize as to the right or wrong of the proposed act of choice, 
and feel an enjoining or a protesting of the conscience with regard to 
it ; we then select the object of choice, and separate it from all others, 
and set it out before the whole mind, as having been decided upon, as, 
on the whole, the thing to be chosen ; we then choose the object thus 
selected, after the selecting and all the preceding acts of the mind have 
been performed as complete and distinct acts. 

h. This is the complete process anteceding and including the act 
of choice drawn out in detail. It is always passed through in every 
act of choice, though often our mental processes are so quick and our 
combinations so rapid, that we do not mark their various and successive 
steps. And, indeed, there may be some acts of passionate precipitancy, 
or of indolent inadvertency, which, while they involve us in the con- 



THE WILL. 45 

sequences, have yet not the characteristics of a deliberate act of choice. 
We may not be conscious of taking each successive and distinct step in 
the process, yet we have taken them, and are responsible for such acts of 
choice ; not because they are, but because they might have been, and 
ought to have been, deliberate acts of choice ; and with all their precip- 
itancy, or heedlessness, if analyzed, there might be discovered even in 
them the real, though fleeting, traces of all the steps in the process of 
deliberate choice. 

i. Having the facts and history of the whole process of choice in 
its separate steps as they appear severally and concretely in conscious- 
ness and experience before us, we propose now to examine them more 
minutely, and thus ascertain the reason of each step, and that in which 
the act itself of choice consists, and also to what faculties of the mind 
each of them must be referred. 

j. The object of this examination is to ascertain that in which the 
act of choice consists, and What faculty chooses, and whether either the 
act or faculty of choice is found at all until we come to the last step in 
the process that terminates in choice. 

k. When it is thus ascertained that the act and the faculty of choice 
are different and distinct from all other acts and faculties of the mind, 
then we shall be prepared to analyze the act and the faculty of choice 
itself, and from it as a centre we shall then examine all the other acts 
and faculties of the mind, and thus complete the subject in one whole 
mental system. 

I. It is intended also in this chapter to examine, so far as may 
be necessary, the several steps in the process of choice, in order to 
show the faculties that take them, and what the steps themselves 
really are, and thus come clearly and intelligently to the act and faculty 
of choice. 

The full and complete discussion, however, of these acts and facul- 
ties, and their relations and functions, will come up in its proper place 
after we have found what the will is, and what choice is, and are pre- 
pared to take up the faculties in the order of the mind's construction. 

m. In this chapter we are in search of the act of choice, and wish to 
take the most direct route to find it. When we have found it we shall 
be able to find the will, which performs the act of choice, and which we 
shall take as the centre and starting-point of mental science. In the 
mean time, and in order to find the will, we must discover, discuss, and 
define the antecedent acts of the mind and the faculties that perform 
them, sufficiently to distinguish them and be guided by them to the 
will and the act of choice, and to discriminate it from all the other 
acts of the mind. 



46 AUTOLOGY. 



PROCESS TO CHOICE. 



a. The first step in the process to choice is the act of sensating. By 
sensation we are brought into contact with the external object of choice. 
The act of sensating is done by the senses. They make us aware of the 
presence of the object, and by their nature act of necessity and without 
choice. Our senses are adapted to their respective objects, and are 
pleased or offended by them instinctively, and receive or reject them 
without volition accordingly. 

b. Secondly, we cognize the object thus brought before us. This act 
of cognizing is done by the reason through the medium of ideas, and is 
also involuntary. The reason has no choice but to cognize the facts 
brought before it, just as they are. It would not act truthfully if it' 
should not thus act ; it is shut up to the facts before it, and is com- 
pelled by its own nature to report accordingly, having by its own 
nature and office no choice in the matter. 

c. These are well-known acts and faculties of the human mind 
which we do not here discuss at large ; they will be fully examined in 
their proper place. Here they are noted as steps in the process to 
choice, as wholly separate from it, and not at all acts of choice. To 
feel a sensation of an object is not to choose it, to cognize an object 
and to know what it is, is not to choose it, although these acts of the 
mind necessarily precede the act of choice. The object thus cognized 
is not chosen, but simply known and thrown back upon the affections. 

d. Thus are the first and the second steps in the process towards 
choice taken, and it is manifest that the quickest sensation of an object, 
and the minutest intellectual examination, and the clearest cognition of 
an object, are not a choice of it ; and also, that if no other faculty than 
the senses and the intellect be employed, there will be no action taken 
with regard to it. The mind will be unmoved with the simple knowl- 
edge of an object before it. This knowledge it hands back to the. affec- 
tions, and they are moved by it ; and this brings us to the third step in 
the process of choice ; viz., affectioning, performed by the affections. 

e. We use the term Affections, to denote both those states of the sus- 
ceptible or emotive nature into which the mind is* thrown by the per- 
ception of an object with regard to which choice is to be made, and the 
several capacities for having such states. 

There would never be an act of choice unless something were craved 
or loathed. The susceptibilities affection or disaffection something 
before there can be anything to choose. This is done by the affections, 
which may be divided into individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic 
aesthetic, and religious affections. 



THE WILL. 47 

/. These Affections are our susceptibilities to pleasure and pain, and 
are that part of our nature that renders us impressible by objects with- 
out, or thoughts within, or of taking any interest in anything whatever 
beyond our animal nature. 

They are, in short, the different modes by which we are rendered 
capable of well-being or of ill-being, and both as states and faculties are 
the constant objects of choice to the will. They act spontaneously, 
appetitively, and emotively. They have a craving for the objects 
adapted to .their gratification, and an aversion to those which are not. 
They do not act deliberately or electively, but cravingly. They spring 
forth on coming into contact with their appropriate objects, and impel to 
their attainment. Their acts are therefore not' choices, but cravings ; 
not decisions, but clamors. 

g. They have no capabilities for different or opposite ends, and there- 
fore cannot choose ; they can act only in one direction. As air rushes 
to a vacuum, as appetite to its food, so the affections run towards their 
appropriate objects without reason or liberty, or any alternative. They, 
therefore, cannot, and do not, choose, but are simply mono-active, and 
move only as they are affected or disaffected, as they crave or as they 
loathe an object. As yet no choice is made, or can be made ; the affec- 
tions have no power of choice ; and this will appear to be. none the less 
true when we consider the affections, not simply as a whole, but in their 
several classes. 

h. The object of choice, when cognized, may be considered as thrown 
on to the different classes of affections successively. It first falls upon 
the individual affections, whose office it is to support and defend the 
self. They include the appetites as well as the affections of the mind, 
and may be called self-sustentative, defensive, acquisitive, annuncia- 
tive. They all act, not electively, but appetitively and cravingly, 
and are involuntary, being incapable of any other action than the 
one of craving or loathing an object ; their acts are not choices, but 
wants longing for gratification. These faculties neither reason nor 
choose-, but only hunger or crave, and run towards their objects as roots 
seek moisture, and leaves seek sunlight ; they are wholly involuntary 
and necessary, and not free in their action. 

i. We come next to the social affections. These include all marital, 
kindred, and amical affections ; and though higher in their order in the 
scale of being than the preceding class, are still of the same nature 
• They neither reason nor choose, but act instinctively and involuntarily 
A mother's heart does not choose to love her child, but would love il 
even if she did not choose to ; so of all these affections. 

■ j. In like manner, the patriotic affections. In these, regard is hac 
to public good chiefly, and the mind is interested in that which is o" 



48 AUTOLOGY. 

advantage as a work of public utility and improvement. They may 
be classified as raceal, local, cultal, and national affections. They are 
found, in a large degree, in clansmen, leaders, preachers, rulers, who are 
called public-spirited, and have often great zeal for race and country, 
and in promoting schools, roads, agriculture, and mechanics. They 
are higher than the individual and social, but lower than the philan- 
thropic ; they are not free actions, but involuntary cravings or emotions. 
They are 'instinctive, and not elective. To feel interested in a matter 
of public good, to be affected by it, is not to choose it. 

k. So also the philanthropic affections. The objects of these are still 
higher and 'broader than those of the patriotic affections. They seek 
to promote public good, not only in clan and country, but to relieve 
human evils, and remove human suffering, and promote human weal 
everywhere, and consequently are divided into two classes, the humane 
and the utile. The humane seek the promotion of disinterested good ; 
the utile seek mutual good. Mere utility always contemplates some- 
what of self ; humane affections look only to others. Yet these affec- 
tions, though worthy and good, are only instinctive and involuntary. 
A heart that delights in doing good to others is a good heart, yet its 
actions are impulses, not choices. These affections have no power of 
"choice, no freedom of action ; like the preceding, they crave and repel 
"involuntarily, but can put forth no act of free election with regard to 
an object. 

I. We next come to the cesthetical affections. These are, perhaps, 
higher intellectually than the philanthropic affections, as they are allied 
with genius and beauty; but morally they are not so high. They have 
three classes ; viz., playful imitativeness, ideal creativeness, depreciative 
sportiveness. They are, in fact, purely selfial, and contemplate neither 
good nor evil to any one. They are without character as to right or 
wrong, and regard objects only as to beauty and deformity, fitness and 
taste. These affections are the susceptibilities to beauty, and are acted 
upon by the objects presented. But these affections are involuntary ; 
they act impulsively and cravingly, and cannot choose. To be im- 
pressed with beauty or deformity, and to be pleased with the one or 
offended with the other, is certainly not choosing it or refusing it, but 
only experiencing certain emotions with regard to it. Our sesthetical 
nature, like the rest of our affectional nature, is an involuntary suscep- 
tibility, and does not choose, but only craves and desires, and is gratified 
by its object, or pained by that which is repugnant to it. It never 
chooses, nor can choose, for it is capable of being gratified with but one 
thing, and that is its own homogeneous object. 

m. We come last to the religious affections. These make us suscep- 
tible to devotion, reverence, and worship towards superiors, and are 



. THE WILL. 49 

placed highest, because they contemplate the highest objects ; viz., God 
and the highest rational and moral beings. 

These affections have six classes, contemplating, 1. Spiritual wants. 
2. Faith in God. 3. Hope of immortality. 4. Anticipativeness of future 
happiness. 5. Divine assimilation. 6. Devotion to the divine. 

They are, like all other affections, involuntary and spontaneous, not 
choices, but simply cravings and emotions that go out after their appro- 
priate objects, and are incapable of any free action. To feel veneration 
or awe is involuntary, and not matter of choice. 

n. 1. The next step in the process to choice is judging. This act is 
performed by the intellect, and as in the act of cognition, so in judging, 
the intellect does not and cannot choose. Its office here is to judge of 
an object of choice as to its various qualities. « 

2. It judges of the qualities of the objects of choice brought before 
us, as to their profit or loss, affinity or opposition, their usefulness or 

'injuriousness, their benevolence or malignity, their beauty or deformity, 
but does not choose them or refuse them ; it barely pronounces judg- 
ment as to what they are and what are their tendencies. 

3. It also sits in judgment on the claims of the several affections as 
opposed to each other, and decides as to their respective degrees of 
value and desirableness in view of pleasure and pain, profit and loss. 

4. Now, it is manifest that this decision with regard to the quality 
of an object, or course of action, is not a choice of it. Certainly I may 
decide that a thing is safe or unsafe, without choosing it ; that it is use- 
ful, benevolent, or beautiful, without choosing it. I may decide that it 
would be very advantageous to me, without choosing it. Indeed the 
intellect cannot choose at all; it is shut up to the laws of its own 
intelligence, and, if true to itself, it must act precisely as its own 
powers compelit to act. Like pure glass, it must transmit unaltered; 
or like a just balance, it must weigh what falls upon it. 

5. To do anything else would show it a defective intellect, and not a 
sound one. Its action is therefore involuntary, and respects the quality 
of objects, and not any personal relation to them. To judge of a thing, 
and to choose that thing as our own; to judge of a course of life, and 
to choose that course of life as our own, are very different things. 
No choice is made by any such judgment. The act of choice is not yet 
found. 

o. We come, therefore, to the next step in the process to choice, — 
moralizing. By moralizing we discover the moral quality of any act of 
choice. This step in the process to choice is taken by the conscience, 
and as an act it differs from all other acts of the mind in that it regards 
not the object chosen, but the act of choosing it. And of this it affirms 
simply that.it is right or wrong. It pays no regard to the object of 
1 



50 AUTOLOGY.. 

choice, whether it be a thing or an act, but simply to the act of choos- 
ing ; and this it decides to be right or wrong, whether the thing chosen 
be actually taken or done, or not. The bare choosing of it is either right 
or wrong. Conscience does not choose, but gives a judgment upon an 
act of choice as to whether it is right or wrong. The act of choice is a 
thing not only distinct and different from the act of conscience, but 
presupposed by it. We do not moralize to make a choice, but we moralize 
about a choice already made, or which we contemplate making. We have 
not, therefore, as yet found the act or the faculty of choice. 

p. 1. We now come to the next and last act of the mind preceding 
choice; that of selecting. This act of the mind is performed by the in- 
tellect, the self-same intellect which we have already seen to be incapable 
of voluntary actio* or choosing. 

2. The intellect selects the object of choice as a "last judgment of the 
understanding; " but this selecting is not at all choosing. After sensa- 
tion and cognition, after the individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, 
Eesthetical, and religious affections have each been moved by the object 
of choice ; after the intellect has judged of the object in relation to all 
these affections, and pronounced its judgment ; after the conscience has 
moralized upon the act of choice as to right and wrong, — then again, and 
last before the act of choice, the intellect selects the object to be chosen, 
selects it in view of all the facts which the preceding mental operations 
have brought before it, and as the result of their operations. 

3. By this act of selecting the object of choice, it is made to stand 
out, defined, separated, and known, before the whole mind, having been 
handled and examined by all its faculties thus far in the process to 
choice ; and it is now selected by the intellect as on the whole the best, 
fittest, and worthiest object of choice to be presented to the choosing 
faculty in order to be chosen or refused by it. 

4. So far the object of choice has passed the ordeal of the other 
faculties of the mind; it now has arrived at the throne of choice, to 
be chosen or refused by the faculty of choice. This act of selecting 
is not a choice ; it is a mere presentation of an object at court by the 
intellect as' a minister, to be chosen or refused by the power sitting 
on the throne. 

5. That the act of selecting is not a choice, will abundantly appear 
when we consider the nature of the intellect itself as already men- 
tioned, and also when we come to analyze the act of choice. It is not 
the choice of an object, but the bare working out of an intellectual 
problem, the balancing of all possible considerations, for and against, 
that may come before the mind as it weighs them in the scales of all 
the affections, the intellect, and the conscience, and throwing all the 
light possible upon them, and comes to a conclusion with regard to 



THE WILL. 51 

the object thus examined. This, in fact, is only completing the mind's 
knowledge of the object before it ; for up to this point the object 
is not known, and could not therefore be an object of intelligent 
choice. 

6. The steps thus far taken are only the several means of investigat- 
ing, testing, and finding out, and exposing the nature, and qualities, 
and tendencies of the object of choice ; they are not at all choices of 
it ; as yet it is only ascertained what the object is, and it is only selected 
as the best object of choice, the thing best adapted to be chosen if 
any choice shall ever be made. Up to this point the mind sensates, 
cognizes, affections, judges, moralizes, selects ; neither of these is an 
act of choice; all of them together are not an act of choice. They have 
neither singly nor in combination any power of choice. 

*J. To sensate an object by the senses is not to choose it ; to cog- 
nize an object by the intellect is not to choose it ; to affection an object 
by any of the affections, or all of them, is not to choose it ; to be 
moved with individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, sesthetical, or re- 
ligious sentiments or emotions, is surely not to choose. To judge of 
all these emotions and their objects is surely not to choose them, but 
only to form a judgment about them, and as to the claims of these several 
affections. To moralize as to the right or wrong of. an act of choice is 
certainly not to make that choice ; and lastly, to select that object as, on 
the whole, the best object to be chosen, is not to choose it. 

8. To decide to do a thing is not to do it. To decide that it is 
best to choose is not to choose; it is only settling what is, on the 
whole, the best and fittest thing to be chosen, giving our judgment of 
an object of choice as a mere involuntary, intellectual decision. It is 
a mental judgment, not a choice. It is a selecting of an object by 
the intellect, to be thereafter chosen or rejected by the choosing faculty, 
and nothing more. 

9. And of all these operations of the mind anteceding choice, it 
must be observed they are not free actions ; they are involuntary acts 
of the mind. The sensation of an object is not a thing that can be or 
cannot be, according to pleasure, but must be, when the occasion for 
it exists. The cognition of an object also is involuntary ; the intellect 
cannot hinder or change it. The intellectual faculty acts mechanically, 
and not electively ; it cannot help knowing what it does know. So 
of the affections ; they act spontaneously, and not choosingly, and only 
in one direction. They have no liberty. 

10. The laws of utility, benevolence, aesthetics, and of morality, as 
these lie in their corresponding affections, are all necessary laws. They 
have no freedom, no alternative action. In their nature, the senses, 
the intellect, the affections, and the conscience are all bound, and act 



52 AUTOLOGY. 

according to their' nature, without liberty, but simply with spontaneity. 
They are by nature incapable of choosing. 

11. And thus we complete the last step in the process to choice, 
and come to the act itself of choosing. We have been more explicit 
and minute in detailing this process in order to make it clear that the 
act of choice and the faculty of choice are both separate and distinct 
from any of those acts or faculties found in -the process to choice, and 
having thus disentangled the act and 'faculty of choice from all others 
with which they might be confounded, we shall now proceed to examine 
them — the first in the next section, and the second in the next chapter. 

SECT. II. WHAT IS THE ACT ITSELF OF CHOICE? 

a. Having completed the process to choice by taking and examining 
its successive steps, we now come to the act itself of choosing. The 
act of choice is. performed by the will. 

b. The inquiry now is, What is the nature of the faculty that chooses ? 
What does the will do in the act of choice ? It does not sensate ; that 
is done by the senses : it does not cognize ; that is done by the intellect : 
it does not crave or loathe an object of choice ; that is done by the 
affections : it does not judge of the nature, or value, or qualities of an 
object ; that is done by the intellect : it does not moralize on the right 
and wrong of an object, or of an act of choice ; that is done by the con- 
science : it does not select the object to be chosen or to be refused, and • 
set it out distinct and defined, known and discriminated from all others, 
and thus made ready, after passing under the review of all the other 
faculties, to be chosen or refused by the will; for this act of selecting 
has already been done by the intellect. 

c. What, then, does the will do in the act of choice ? The reply is, 
that it chooses, nothing more, nothing less. It chooses or refuses, and if 
the will refuses, still it chooses, for the act either of choosing or refusing 
is still a positive act of the will, choosing something in each case. 
What, then, is choosing ? If it is not sensating, nor cognizing, nor 
affectioning, nor judging, nor moralizing, nor selecting, nor any combi- 
nation of all or any of these acts of the mind, then what is it ? 

d. What is choosing ? Choosing is giving the consent of the self to 
the object of choice. In other words, and more fully, choosing is that act 
of the will or self which first announces and then disposes of itself to the 
object of choice, or choosing is an authoritative act exercised in disposing of 
the author of that act. Self-disposition is, therefore, the essence of choice. 

e. By the act of choice, the me, the self, the ego, is committed to 
some thing, or act, which may be, for the time, one of any number of 
objects of choice. 



THE WILL. 53 

/. In this act the ego, or self, is committed and assumes the responsi- 
bility, makes itself answerable, and feels that it must abide the con- 
sequences, 

g. Now this characteristic of the act of choice shows it to be different 
from all other acts of the mind ; for we may sensate ever so clearly, 
cognize ever so distinctly, affection ever so strongly, judge ever so accu- 
rately, moralize ever so purely, select ever so discriminatingly the object 
of choice, still we do not thereby at all commit ourselves, or dispose of 
the self or the me. We only thereby come to a knowledge of the 
object of choice, nothing more. 

h. But when we choose an object, then are we committed to it and 
responsible for it. Surely when we sensate an object, we are thereby 
only made aware that something is present, and when we cognize an 
object, we only know what it is ; these mental acts do not commit us, 
or make us responsible. 

i. 1. The same characteristic of the act of choice shows it to be dif- 
ferent also from all acts of the affections. The affections, whether 
individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, gesthetical, or religious, crave 
a gratification adapted to their nature, and go out spontaneously towards 
objects which will produce such gratification; but simply being con- 
scious of this craving for a natural and legitimate object of any of , the 
affections, does not commit the self to, or make it responsible for, that 
which it craves, and which is by nature adapted to its gratification, 
unless the will, by an act of choice, adopts these cravings. 

2. The natural and spontaneous action of any of our natural capabili- 
ties of enjoying an object of choice, whether individual, social, patriotic, 
philanthropic, sesthetical, or religious, by which these affections simply 
show that they have being and life, and what they are, but do not 
gratify themselves, does not incur responsibility any more than does 
pulsation or digestion. We may feel conscious of the possession of 
all these capabilities and of their cravings, and yet feel conscious that 
the I, the self, is not at all implicated in them, or committed or respon- 
sible for them. 

3. But not so with an act of choice. It commits, binds over, and 
holds responsible, the whole man, both for the choosing itself as an 
act, and for the thing chosen. It commits the whole self. This is 
its identifying characteristic. It makes the man responsible. When 
the will chooses, adopts, and consents to the gratification of any one of 
the cravings of the affections,- then do we dispose of ourselves to it, and 
then do we become responsible for it, as right or wrong, injurious or 
useful. 

j. So also of judging with regard to an object : it is manifest that 
merely forming an intellectual judgment between the cravings of any 



54 AUTOLOGY. 

two or more affections, or judging as to the beauty or deformity of an 
object, or judging as to the usefulness, safety, or wisdom of any act or 
gratification, does not commit the me or the self to that judgment, if 
nothing but the mere discrimination is made ; it is only working out an 
intellectual problem, and nothing more. The self, if the matter stops 
here, and the judgment is simply made, remaining unacted upon and 
unadopted by the will, is of course no more affected or committed by it 
than in solving a problem in mathematics, but remains free and undis- 
posed of by this act. 

k. 1. And just so of the act of moralizing by the conscience. It does 
not commit the self to the thing discovered to be right or wrong, by 
the simple act of discovering it to be right or wrong. It is true that 
the self is under obligations both to choose and do the right and 
avoid the wrong when discerned by the conscience and pointed out. 
But certainly discerning the right, and feeling under obligation to do 
the right, is not choosing the right; they are two very different acts; 
and so discerning the wrong, and feeling under obligation to avoid the 
wrong, is a very different thing from refusing the wrong, or from delib- 
erately choosing to avoid the wrong. 

2. The man has not chosen right, and acquitted himself so far forth 
of obligation and deserved reward, when he has only discovered what 
is right, and what he is under obligation to choose and elect. Nor has 
he done wrong, and incurred guilt and deserved penalty, when he has 
only discovered what is wrong, but has not chosen it. Therefore an act 
of the conscience discerning and enforcing the right and prohibiting 
the wrong, has not committed and bound over the self as justified or 
condemned to the object, act, or thing, the moral character of which is 
thus discovered. ■ 

3. Indeed, the right and wrong of a thing must first of necessity be 
known before any responsible act can be taken with regard to it; and 
that act is done and performed by the will in the act of choice, obey- 
ing or disobeying the law of conscience, and not by the act of the con- 
science in discerning and defining the law of right. The conscience is 
the judicial, the intellect is the law-giving power, the will is the execu- 
tive and responsible power. 

4. Now, the legislature which enacts, and the judge who decides what 
is law, do not by such acts of legislating and judging obey or disobey 
the laws which they thus create or interpret, and consequently do not 
incur any responsibility under the laws which they thus make or inter- 
pret ; but simply make them and make them known, to be obeyed or 
disobeyed thereafter by citizens. So with the will and conscience. 
The latter is judge, the former is executive, who by his acts under the 
law becomes responsible as guilty or innocent. 



THE WILL. 55 

1. 1 . Neither is selecting an object as fit for choice, choosing it ; it 
is only a presenting of it to the will to be chosen by it, or rejected by 
it thereafter. If selecting an object by the intellect for choice seems 
choosing by the will, it is only so when the will actually chooses it 
thereafter. 

2. But if the will, instead of choosing the object selected by the 
intellect, rejects it, it becomes very manifest that selecting by the intel- 
lect and choosing by the will are two very different things ; and that 
selecting does not dispose of the self, nor consequently incur responsi- 
bility, while choosing does incur it, and does commit the self to the 
thing or act chosen. 

3. To select by the intellect is an involuntary act, a mere mental 
process, an intellectual solution which the mind has no choice about. 
To see that two and two are four is not a voluntary act, but one that the 
mind, by the necessity of its nature, by the very laws of intelligence, 
itself is compelled to perform ; and it cannot see that two and two are 
five, nor does it by such act make the self responsible, or in any way 
compromise or commit it. It is not at all an act of choice. 

4. Just so selecting an object for choice, thereafter to be chosen, is 
not at all a responsible act, but a mere intellection, that does not commit 
the self, or make the me responsible ; it does not dispose of the self, but 
leaves it free. 

5. But not so with the act of choosing a thing. To choose a thing is 
virtually to do it. Morally it is an actual doing of it, and hence the 
self is thereby committed to it and for it. By an act of choice, the will 
surrenders up the self. It asserts and compromises the self or ego. It 
consents to a thing or act, and gives up the self to that thing or act, 
and thus the whole self becomes committed to it. 

6. For when the will has thus declared itself, then there is nothing 
left behind, but the whole self is committed, has announced itself, and 
asserted, its prerogative. This is choice ; for the self is committed and 
the me, the ego, is responsible ; the whole personality is involved in this 
act. 

The intellect may protest, the conscience may oppose, but still the 
choice of the will carries with it .the whole man as responsible for the 
act of choice. 



56 AUTOLOGY. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE FOURTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, 
WHAT IS THE FACULTY OF CHOICE? 

a. Having settled the question, What is the act of choice ? and found 
that it consists in self-disposijtion, i. e., the disposing of the self to the 
object of choice, we now come to the inquiry, What is the faculty that 
performs the act of choice ? 

b. Is it the self, or substance of the mind that chooses, or is it some 
quality inhering 1 in that self or substance ? 

c. We have already ascertained that the mind, like matter, is made 
up of substance and qualities ; and that this substance or essence of the 
mind is not a mere force like the substance of nature, but is a spiritual, 
living, forceful, and conscious agent; that it is the self, and that the self 
is self-conscious, a luminous and known, and not a dark and unknown 
centre of the mind, and that the self, the me, the ego, the will, and the 
substance of the mind are identical. 

d. In answer to the question, What is the faculty of choice? it is 
replied, that by careful elimination of all the acts of all the other facul- 
ties, and by separating the act of choice from all other acts, we have dis- 
entangled both the act and the faculty of choice from all other acts and 
faculties. And we find that the will alone is the faculty of choice. 
It alone performs the authoritative act of disposing of the self; it alone 
by its act binds the me, and makes the self responsible ; therefore it 
alone is the faculty of choice. No other faculty of the mind does or 
can do this ; it alone chooses, and it alone disposes of the self by its 
acts ; therefore it alone has freedom, and it alone incurs responsibility. 

e. But if, as we have shown in the preceding chapter, the essence of 
choice is self-disposition ; if the act of choice commits, binds over, and 
makes responsible the self; if when choice is made the self is announced 
and disposed of, refused or surrendered to an object of choice, then it 
it is evident that the will and the self are one and the same thing. 

/. For when the will has acted, made a choice, and disposed of the 
self, then there is no self or me left to act,. the self and the whole self, 
and the only self is already announced, committed, and disposed of. It 
has already disposed of itself in the act of choice. The will and the 
self are therefore identical. 



THE WILL. 57 

g. In the little sentence " I choose," the will goes through the 
whole act of announcing and disposing of the- ego or self. It first, as 
in any other act, announces itself " I," then it disposes of itself by the 
active verb " choose ; " and it is the will that does it all. The will an- 
nounces " I ;" that "I" is the me, the ego, the self. It then disposes of 
this self which is itself, the same "I, " which it announces and disposes 
of in the act of choice. Hence, most plainly the " I," or the self, which 
is the same thing, and the will, are identical. The will and the self are 
one and the same thing. Therefore it is the will that disposes of the 
self, and it is the will, of course, that chooses. 

h. But we have before shown, in Chapter II., that the self is the 
essence or substance of the mind. Now, as according to a well known 
first truth, two things which are equal to the same thing are equal to 
each other ; it follows that the will and the substance or essence of the 
mind must be equal to each other, for they have each been shown to be 
equal to and identical with the one and the same self ; and therefore the 
will and the essence or substance of the mind must be equal to and 
identical with one another, as they are the same ego, me, or self. 
The will, therefore, is the substance or essence of the mind, and it is the 
substance or essence of the mind that chooses. 

i. How the will can be the substance of the mind, and yet perform 
the functions of a faculty, is just as obvious as how, being a sub- 
stance, it can yet be self-conscious, and hold the other faculties of the 
mind in inherence, and take cognizance of what they do, know, and 
report. It is in the nature of the will, as the substance of the mind, 
to do these things. 

j. But most especially will it appear how the will can both be and do 
all the above things, and also perform the functions of choosing, when 
we recall, as given in Chapter III., what the act of choice is, and when 
in Chapter V., we come to consider what the power of choice is, and in 
Chapter VI., what the vital and dynamical construction of the will is. 



58 AUTOLOGY. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE FIFTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, 
WHAT IS THE POWER OF CHOICE? 

SECT. I. THE OBJECTIVE OR OCCASIONAL POWER OF CHOICE. 

a. In this chapter, the elements of the will are discovered and brought 
out, by showing that the power of choice is twofold ; objective and 
subjective, or occasional and efficient ; the first lying out of the will, and 
the second within the will. 

b. Our inquiries up to this point have only conducted us to the 
will. It has not been our object in the preceding chapter to analyze 
completely, or to discuss at length, the faculties of the mind. We have 
aimed only to ascertain what the act of choice is, and what faculty it is 
that chooses. 

c. This involved a cursory notice of the other faculties and their 
action, in order to show their relation to the act and faculty of choice, 
and to discriminate the former from the latter. 

d. For this end, we have drawn out the process to, and including 
choice, in chronological order, and found that it begins with the senses 
and ends with the will. It begins wjth the act of sensating and ends 
with the act of choosing. It is one process, but made up of distinct 
and separate acts, performed by separate and distinct faculties. The 
chronological order thus far pursued by way of exploration and dis- 
covery, is the reverse of the logical order which will be adopted in the 
further discussion' of this subject. 

e. Perhaps both methods are chronological and logical also, the former 
to the observer and the latter to the actor himself. While, in the pro- 
cess to choice, the operation begins without, and at the furthest point 
possible from the centre of the man, and proceeds inward from faculty 
to faculty, from sensating to cognizing, and from cognizing to affection- 
ing, and from affectioning to judging, from judging to moralizing, and 
from moralizing to choosing ; or to name the faculties, from the senses 
to the intellect, then to the affections, then the conscience, then the 
intellect again, and lastly, the will. 

f. The process of the mind's construction, on the contrary, begins at 
the centre, and with the will or substance of the mind, and proceeds out- 



THE WILL. 59 

ward from faculty to faculty, from the will to the affections, from the 
affections to the intellect, and from the intellect to the conscience. At 
least, it begins with the will as substance and centre of the mind, and 
proceeds outward, taking up the various faculties of the mind in their 
logical order. 

g. Not that there exists any local or physical relation of the faculties 
to the self or to each other, as in the body, but that in the order of being, 
the substance exists before the properties, and the properties or qualities 
themselves have some natural order of development. 

h. Taking up, then, the logical, instead of the chronological order, 
we come to inquire after the elements of the self, or will, which we have 
found to be the centre, essence, and substance of the mind. And here 
we fall again upon one of the first questions with which we started in 
Chapter I. ; viz.; How does the will begin to act? The self or will is 
the substance of the mind, and an indivisible unit ; yet it manifestly has 
co-ordinate and coeval elements, which are distinguishable in their func- 
tions and character, yet which coalesce in one inseparable whole. 

i. What, then, are these elements ? We have seen that the will chooses ; 
that in choosing, the will disposes of itself; and that the will and the 
self are one and the same thing ; and that the will performs the act of 
choice alone, and by its own peculiar and proper force and efficient 
power ; that though the sense sensates and the intellect cognizes, and 
thus brings an object before the mind, still they perform no part of the 
act of choosing. 

j. We have seen that though the affections crave or reject, i. e., affec- 
tion or disaffection an object, yet they do 'not choose it ; and that the 
intellect, though it judges of such objects as to their qualities, yet does 
not choose them ; and that the conscience, though it moralises as to the 
right and wrong of the act of choice, yet does not choose an object or 
act ; and that the intellect, again, though it selects an object as fit for 
choice and the best for choice, and sets it before the will for choice, 
yet does not itself choose ; and thus that the complete and entire act 
of choice is performed by the will alone. 

k. Hence also we see that the complete, efficient, and subjective 
power of choice must be in the will itself alone. 

1. The term power is not, however, sufficiently definite, and admits of 
division into efficient or subjective, and occasional or objective power. 
The efficient or subjective power of choice lies, as Ave have "seen, in the 
will. The occasional or objective power of choice lies out of the will, 
and consists of the objects and occasions of choice; it is a power "sine 
qua non ; " a choice could not take place without it. 

m. An object of choice could not be taken unless there be an object 
of choice, nor could an act of choice be put forth without an occasion 



60 AUTOLOGY. 

for it. The concurrence of both the subjective and the objective power 
of choice is indispensable to the actual and practical taking of an 
object of choice. A choice could be made by the subjective power of 
the will alone, but it could not be carried into actual effect without the 
presence of the objects and the occasions of choice, which constitute 
the occasional and the objective power of choice. The occasional or 
objective power of choice consists of the object to be chosen, the facul- 
ties to bring the object before the will, and the circumstance or occasions 
as to time, place, and events, which surround the object and the chooser. 
The efficient or subjective power of choice lies in the agent who chooses, 
that is, in the will itself, as in due time we shall show. 

n. 1. Now, the former of these powers, i. e., the objective, or occasion- 
al power of choice, consists of all those faculties and their action which 
we have seen employed in the process to choice, together with the objects 
and occasions of choice, all meeting at the same time and place, to wit : 
the faculty of sense, sensating ; the faculty of intellect, perceiving and 
cognizing, the faculty of affection, affectioning ; the faculty of intellect 
again, judging; the faculty of conscience, moralizing; and the faculty of 
intellect again, selecting ; and the object or act which at the time and 
place is to be the subject of choice. 

2. These constitute the objective power of choice ; these are conditions 
" sine qua non." If they do not exist, no choice can take place. If 
nothing is known, then of course nothing can be chosen. If nothing is 
craved or loathed ; if nothing is adjudged good or evil, fit or unfit, useful 
or injurious, beautiful or deformed, benevolent or malevolent, devout .or 
impious ; if nothing is considered as right or wrong; if nothing is selected, 
as, on the whole, the best object of choice, and certainly if there is no 
object of chojce at all before the mind, — then no object can be chosen ; 
and if there be no object then present, then no choice, though made, can 
be carried into effect. These things are the indispensable conditions of 
choice, without which it could not take place ; and we call them the 
objective or occasional power of choice, because they lie out of the 
will, and because they furnish both the objects and the occasions for 
choosing. 

o. But the efficient or subjective power of choice lies altogether in 
the will itself, in the chooser, and not in the objects or occasions for 
choosing; and the will is, as we have seen, the sole chooser. If a choice 
could not take place without the occasional power of choice, as we have 
seen, much less could it take place without the efficient or subjective 
power of choice. We could no more choose without a chooser than with- 
out objects or occasions for choice. On the contrary, a subjective choice 
could be made without external objects of choice, but of course no choice 
could be made without a chooser. If it is indispensable that there be a 



THE WILL. 61 

sensater, a cognizer, a craver, a judger, a moralizer, a selecter, by which 
an object of choice is brought into a condition to be chosen, and in which 
choice is possible, much more is it indispensable that there be a chooser 
with the efficient and subjective power of choice. 

p. Now, we have already seen that the will is the chooser ; that it alone 
performs the act of choosing ; therefore in the will alone must be found 
the efficient and subjective power of choice ; while in the other faculties 
of the mind, and in the objects and occasions for choice, must be found 
the objective or occasional power of choice. 

q. Moreover, since we have found that the will and the self are 
one, and that the will is thus the substance or essence of the mind, it 
must follow that the other faculties of the mind, such as the faculty that 
sensates, the faculty that cognizes, the faculty that affections, the faculty 
that judges, the faculty that moralizes, the faculty that selects, and all 
other faculties that may yet appear, must inhere in the will as the centre, 
substance, or essence of the mind ; inhere in it as qualities inhere in any 
substance ; and of course that the efficient power of choice lies not in 
the qualities of the object. 

r. This relation, then, is established as existing between the will and 
the other faculties of the mind; viz., that the will is the substance or 
essence of the mind, the centre of the mind, while the other faculties 
exist as qualities or attributes, inhering in the will as their essence and 
centre. 



SECT. II. THE EFFICIENT POWER OF CHOICE, COMPRISING THE 
TRUE ELEMENTS OF THE WILL. 

a. We have seen that the efficient power of choice lies in the will, 
while the occasional power of choice lies in the other faculties outside 
of the will, and in the objects of choice. The question now arises, What 
is that power in the will by which it puts forth the act of choice ? Of 
what elements is it composed, and what is its nature and character ? 

b. This brings us at once to the very centre of the mind, to an 
analysis of the will itself, and to the inquiry, What are its essential 
constituents ? We are brought, in a word, to the essence of the mind. 
We have already seen that the self is the essence of the mind ; that 
this essence has still constituent elements which inhere, not in an under- 
lying substance, but in each other ; and that this self and the will are 
identical, and that the will is the centre, substance, and essence of the 
mind. 

c. We now come to inquire, What are the essential elements, which, 
inhering in each other, constitute the will, and give to it the efficient 
power of choice ? or, in other words, How can the will begin to act ? 



62 AUTOLOGY. 

To this it is replied, that the will alone, as we have seen, performs the 
act of choice, after all the other faculties of the mind have acted and per- 
formed their appropriate and peculiar functions. Its efficient power of 
choice cannot, therefore, partake at all of the power of the other faculties 
of the mind, but must be all its own peculiar, and exclusive, and proper 
power. 

d. In order to know what the will is, we have only to observe 
what it does, and what are its states of being. And what have we seen 

.of the will iii the past chapter? We have seen that it is the self; that it 
is the substance or essence of the mind ; that as such it holds all the 
other faculties of the mind in the unity of a common inherence ; that as 
such it is an essential life-force ; and that, while it is a force for this 
purpose, it is also conscious and self-conscious; and that, while thus 
self-conscious, it chooses, and that in choosing it disposes of itself, 
which, of course, is the self, for the will and the self we have seen to 
be one. 

e. Now, from these facts, these acts of the will, we inquire, What 
is the will, as essence of the mind ? what are its essential elements ? or, 
rather, what are the elements of its power so to act? What elements 
are implied, involved, and employed in a will thus being and thus act- 
ing ? In other words, what constitutes the will's power of self-dis- 
position, which is its efficient power of choice ? for choice is, as we 
have seen, self-disposition. « 

f. To answer this, and ascertain what this will, this living self, is, let 
us more particularly look at what it does ; and it will be sufficient for 
our purpose here simply to look at the act of choice in order to get a 
clew to the elements of the will, which, after we have them thus before 
us, we may find also from another point of inquiry. 

A. 1. In the first place, the act of choice implies action, and, of course, 
the faculty that performs it must have activity. Not that the act of choice 
is the first act of the mind, or the first spring of its activity ; for we 
have already shown that it is not ; but still it is an act ; and, as we have 
seen, to choose is to direct one activity towards another. Therefore, 
in the act of self-disposition, which is choice, the will directs one 
activity towards another. Here, then, are three activities implied in the 
act of choice, two of which, viz., the activity directed and the activity 
directing, are in the will, and belong to the efficient power of choice ; 
while the latter, i. e., that to which the activity is directed, is in the 
affections, and belongs to the occasional or objective power of choice. 
Very clearly, then, the act of choice implies action, essential action; and 
we may safely set down " activity" essential activity, as one element in 
the will's efficient or subjective power of choice. 

2. In the second place, the act of choice is knowingly done and per- 



THE WILL. 63 

formed ; the will must, therefore, have intelligence or consciousness in 
itself. 

It must be conscious of all its own activity, and of all the activity 
of the faculties that inhere in it. It must be conscious of holding 1 the 
faculties in inherence, and conscious of all its own acts done by its own 
power, over and above, and before and distinct from, its consciousness 
of the acts of the other faculties. 

We may, therefore, set down essential intelligence, or consciousness, as 
another element in the will's efficient power of choice. 

3. Thirdly, there is authority in the will's act of self-disposition. To 
choose, then, is to show authority, for the self disposes of the self, 
therefore the will must be the author of its own action ; it must be a 
proprietor and have proprietorship ; it must be an individual self, it 
must have self-consciousness. Moreover, it must know that it is a 
self, an individual ; and hence we may set down individuality as a third 
element in the will, and helping to constitute its efficient power of 
choice. 

4. In the fourth place, there is especial design and intent in the act of 
self-disposition or choice ; that is, the act is for a particular end, viz., 
self-disposition ; and therefore the will must have also the end of its 
action in itself, or self-law ; it must be a law unto itself. 

5. And fifthly, it disposes of itself for itself, and in obedience to its 
own inherent end of action ; therefore it must have liberty, for this is 
liberty ;• self-disposition is the essence of liberty. And it is so because 
it has within itself its own end of action, its own authority for action, 
its own intelligence and its own life-force, as we have seen the will here 
to have. 

6. Now, these elements are implied and employed in the action of 
the self or will in the act of choice, by which it always disposes of itself, 
for choice is self-disposition. The two primary elements are, — 

First. Essential Activity, or Life. 

Second. Essential Intelligence, or Consciousness. 

The order of these two is not important, as they are alike primal and 
original, having simultaneous existence, and are, as we have seen in 
Chapter I., the primal elements of the mind, in which alone begin, and 
can begin, its knowing and its acting. The elements of the complete 
will, therefore, stand thus ; viz. : — 

First. Essential Activity, or Life. 

Second. Essential Intelligence, or Consciousness. 

Third. Essential Individuality, Self, or Authorship, or Proprietorship. 

Fourth. Essential Self-Law, or End of Action. 

Fifth. Essential Liberty, or Self disposition, which is the act and 



64 AUTOLOGY. 

essence of choice. Self-disposition is the essence of choice, as it is the 
essence of liberty. 

7. These elements are not only clearly implied and actually em- 
ployed by the will in the act of choice, but they are indispensable to it, 
and they are all that are essential to it. More would be a redundancy, 
as less would be a deficiency ; for without a spring of action, how could 
the will act ? Without intelligence, how could it know its action ? 
Without being a self, a proprietor, an author, how could it disjjose of 
itself, as in the act of choice it does dispose of itself? And without an 
end of action, how could it act for an end ? And without that end of 
action in itself, how could it have liberty ? And without liberty, how 
could it choose or dispose of itself? 

8. Thus we have all the elements employed in self-disposition ; and 
how in the act of self-disposition could any more elements be employed 
than those enumerated ? These constitute a complete self or will, with 
full power to act, to perform the act of choice, of self-disposition. More 
would be superfluous, less insufficient. These five elements, then, we 
take to be the constituents of the will, giving it the efficient power of 
choice, and we have derived them from the act of choice by inference, 
as implied and employed in that act. And here we might leave the 
question of fact, and consider it established that these are the true 
elements of the will. 

1 B. a. But we have other sources of proof. We have here appealed 
to observation and the reason ; let us now turn to the consciousness, and 
ask what is its testimony as to the elements of the will employed in the 
act of self-disposition, or choice. 

1. We affirm, that in the act of choice, or self-disposition, the mind is 
conscious of action. 

2. It is conscious of knowing ; that is, conscious that it is conscious. 

3. It is conscious that it is the author of its own acts ; that is, it is 
self-conscious. 

4. It is conscious in the act of self-disposition that the end of this act 
is self-disposition, and that thus its end of action is in itself. 

5. It is conscious that the act of self-disposition is, in its nature, a 
free act ; and consequently it is directly conscious of liberty. 

b. And thus, again, we have clearly, by the testimony of conscious- 
ness, the same five elements in the self, or will, or essence of the mind ; 
viz., essential intelligence, activity, individuality, .law or end, and 
liberty. 

c. And here, with the concurrent testimony of reason and conscious- 
ness, we surely might leave the question of the elements of the will as 
settled, and pass on to a more minute examination of these several 



* THE WILL. 65 

elements, and of their combination into the one faculty of the will, and 
of their coalescence in the essence of the mind. 

G. a. But having already, in Chapter I., ascertained the two pri- 
mordial elements of the mind, viz., essential intelligence and essential 
activity, as the som*ces of the mind's knowing, and of its acting, and as 
these are precisely the same elements which we here find entering into 
the will and essence of the mind, we shall proceed from these two pri- 
mordial elements to seek out other constituents of the will. 

b. In Chapter I. we found that the mind could not begin its knowing 
in the reason or in the senses, but must have a source of knowing 
anterior to them, or it could never know anything. That source of 
knowing we found to be the essential intelligence, or consciousness. 

c. We also found that the mind could never begin to act without 
some source of activity lying back of the will, the affections, and the 
conscience, as the specific act of each of these implied an action gone 
before ; precisely as the act of knowing by the reason and senses, each 
implied a knowing going before them. That source of action we found 
to be essential activity, lying below the act of choice, and below the act 
of the affections and the conscience. 

d. We now take up again the two primal elements of the mind's 
being, viz., the 'sources of its acting and of its knowing, and we shall 
see that they are formative principles, and that by their combination 
with each other, and their successive combinations with their products 
respectively, all the elements of the will are produced, and that they all 
coalesce into the one unit, the one undivided whole of self, will, essence, 
and substance of the mind. Reason, consciousness, and our own obser 
vation have already taught us that the will is composed of five elements ; 
but we shall now see that only the first two of them are primary, original, 
and coeval, and that all the rest are formed by combining them and 
their products. 

e. These two, essential intelligence and essential activity, the latter 
the evidence of life, and the former the evidence of mind, have a primary 
and coeval inherence in each other ; the essential activity being first in 
the order of being, and the essential intelligence, or consciousness, being 
first in the order of knowing. 

/. The}', however, both in one individual coalescence, are the primal 
essence of being, and, combining as formative principles, constitute the 
one whole self, or will. 

The whole self is active, the whole self is conscious. There is no 

part of the self that is not active, and none that is not conscious. The 

essential activity, or life, and the essential consciousness, or intelligence, 

are mutually inclusive and interpenetrant, and unitedly, therefore, and 

9 



66 AUTOLOGY. ■ 

severalty, permeate the whole self, from centre to circumference, so that 
the whole self is both active and known, alive and conscious. 

g. The whole essence of the mind is thus luminous and living-, active 
and known. There is no dark unknown and unknowable self, essence, 
or substance, lying below the reach of our knowledge ; but all is thus 
known and open to our intelligence. 

h. Now, by the combination of these two elements we have the third ; 
that is, the essential consciousness, combining with the essential ac- 
tivity, gives self-consciousness, the consciousness of a self, individual 
proprietor or author. 

Then, assuming their product as a distinct element, and combining it 
again with the original two, we have the fourth element as product, viz., 
self as end, or self-law, as already found in the act of self-disposition. 

And still, again, by taking this self-law as the end of action which the 
will has in itself, and combining it with the preceding elements, we have 
liberty as the fifth and last element of the will ; for essential intelli- 
gence combined with essential activity, or life, gives a self-conscious 
self. Then this self as end gives a law of action to the self, and in itself, 
and this law, whose end is in itself, and which is self-disposing, is, when 
combined with the preceding elements, liberty. And thus we have a 
complete self, or will, which is the essence of the mind, made up of 
mutually inhering elements, and giving us thus a full-armed, free, and 
competent will, having the efficient power of choice in itself, and per- 
forming the act of self-disposition in every act it puts forth. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE SIXTH GREAT QUESTION OF MENTAL SCIENCE IS, 
WHAT IS THE VITAL AND DYNAMICAL CONSTRUCTION 
OF THE WILL? 

SECT. I. ESSENTIAL ACTIVITY. — FIRST ELEMENT. 

A. a. In this chapter are defined and explained the spiritual, vital, 
and dynamical elements of the will, and the process by which they are 
combined into a complete whole, constituting the will. 

b. The will is a vital and dynamical development out of the two pri- 
mordial and formative elements by which the mind begins to act and to 
know ; essential activity and essential intelligence. 

c. That the will has these two primal and formative elements we have 



THE WILL. 67 

already shown, practically, by observing what the will does in the act 
of choice, and also by marking* the difference between the objective and 
the subjective power of choice ; and thus by induction from facts 'we are 
able to show of what elements the will must be composed, and we have 
shown it in the sections of the preceding chapter. 

d. We now propose to give the vital and dynamical process by which 
the will is logically constructed out of the primal and formative elements, 
discovered in Chapter I., and to show that the same successive elements 
are logically developed, and the same faculty of will constructed and 
completed by the vital and dynamical working together of these two 
primal and formative elements which have been practically found to exist 
in the actual working of the will as a complete faculty. 

e. We bring together, as two witnesses to the same facts, conscious- 
ness, as it gives the vital and dynamical elements and structure of the 
will, and experiment, which observes and marks the practical working of 
the will ; and thus we have the nature of the will doubly attested and 
affirmed. 

f. Before entering upon the combination of the elements that build 
the will, we must observe that, of all the faculties of the mind, the will 
alone has freedom. The affections act involuntarily, by necessity of 
their nature. The intellect acts also according to its own fixed laws in 
all its knowing. The conscience has no alternative, but accuses or else 
excuses according to its own nature and conditions. The will alone 
has the power of free action ; and when it is completed as a will in all its 
elements, it has this freedom in itself. 

g. It must be observed; however, that the elements of the will are not 
free ; they act necessarily and according to their own involuntary nature, 
until they have produced liberty, and then liberty recombined with them 
produces and completes the will. This distinction must be particularly 
observed, as it will be found to be of importance, not only in discrim- 
inating choice, but also when we come to regard the will as the sub- 
stance of the mind, producing qualities and holding them in inherence 
in itself. 

h. It must be borne in mind also, that these elements do not inhere in 
any common substance, but inhere, as we have seen in Chapter II., in 
each other. They are elements, and not qualities, and are, therefore, 
mutually inherent, being substance and quality to each other reciprocally, 
as all elements are. This distinction between qualities and elements 
cannot be too carefully observed. 

i. We now take up the several elements which constitute the self, 
will, or essence of the mind, and proceed to examine them separately, 
in order more fully to ascertain their nature and the nature and power 
of the will which they compose. 



68 AUTOLOGY. 

B. a. The first element of the self, will, or essence of the mind, which 
observation, reason, and consciousness give us, is essential activity, or life. 

b. We cannot conceive of a self without the thought of life, and it is 
impossible to conceive of life without activity, essential and spontaneous 
activity. Life gives no evidence of its existence without action. A 
dead self is no self, and an inactive life is no life. Essential activity 
ever springing forth, ever acting, ever showing its life by its activity, — 
this is the first and indispensable element of a self, will, or essence. 

c. In this we have the full answer to the question, " How can the 
mind begin to act?" with which this work set out; and the answer 
is this : The mind begins to act, just as it begins to live, in an original 
and essential activity, which is the essence of life ; for life and activity 
are here one and the same identical thing. 

d. This activity must not be confounded with appetitive craving, or 
with affectional desire, sentiment, or passions. All these we have seen 
to be historically before the act of choice, and to have acted, before we 
arrived at the will or self at all. We have also seen that choice comes 
after this activity. The essential activity lies, in the order of nature, at 
the centre, as the life and life-spring, and all the remaining activities come 
after. 

e. The appetites and affections, and the conscience, have already all 
had their cravings and aversions, and it is with regard to them that the 
essential activity, or life, is directed by the will. 

/. The essential activity which the will, by the act of choice, directs, 
is different in time and nature from them all, and lies deeper than all 
other activities. This activity is not that of growth, nor of gravitation, 
which depends upon antecedent conditions or causes. It has no ante- 
cedent, nor any conditions, save that of its own existence, but is simple 
activity, simple life. 

g. It does not spring, like the motion of the earth, from the joint 
action of two forces. It is not the action of a sensitivity, nor of an in- 
tellect, nor is it the effect of a preceding action; but. it is an activity 
which, like the principle of life, which it is, lies back of all conditions, and 
is itself the first element and ground of being. The principle of activity 
and the principle of life are coexistent and identical, and in contra- 
distinction from all conditioned activities. 

h. This activity or life depends upon no antecedent cause, aims at no 
consequent effect, but is simply and essentially active. The appetites 
and affections are stimulated by an external cause, and gratified by an 
appropriate object, and then cease to act. But this essential activity, or 
life of the self, never ceases to act until it ceases to exist. It is moved 
by nothing from without, aims towards no object, is gratified or offended 
by no result, but is acting, ever and unceasingly acting. 



THE WILL. 69 

i. Not so of the affections, or appetites, or passions. They crave a 
specific thing. When that thing is attained, their activity is gratified, 
and ceases for the time. But this essential activity has no appetite for 
anything, no desire for anything; tends towards no definite point, only 
is ever and essentially active. It goes forth on its own motion without 
design, and is the condition and pre-requisite of all specific and designed 
action. 

j. Nor is this activity that of the intellect ; for though the intellect 
must always act, thought must always think, is ever ceaseless, yet it 
must ever think something, know something. But this essential activity 
never knows anything ; thinks nothing, and does nothing ; but is that 
which is known. It is the subject matter of knowledge, and is the 
subject of direction when something is done. 

k. Yet, as the intellect is ceaselessly active, so is this life, or activity, 
ceaselessly active. Intellect always is occupied with something. It is 
impossible that it should exist in an inactive state. It is when it acts. 
It is gone when it ceases to act. So the will, self, or essence in its 
essential activity has no existence except in its activity. It cannot be 
and not act. 

I. Nor is this activity the act of choice. Choice is the direction of 
this activity to a specific end. This activity, therefore, is that which 
renders choice possible. It is the very activity which by choice is 
directed to an intelligent and designed end. In itself it has no direction 
to any end. It craves nothing, selects nothing, chooses nothing, but is 
a spontaneous and indefinite activity directed to one end and from 
another by the act of choice. 

m. Nor is this activity that of the conscience, for the conscience im- 
plies an act of choice, either done or to be done, upon which it passes 
judgment, which act of choice implies this activity already in existence, 
and directs it to some specific end. 

n. The essential activity, therefore, is not intellectual, appetitive, 
passionate, sentimental, ethical, or voluntary, but is simply spontaneous 
and indeterminate, lying back of all other activities, and is the condition 
upon which alone they are possible. All specific activities are built 
upon and may seek to control this essential activity, but are not 
identical with it. 

The appetitive, affectional, ethical, voluntary, and intellectual activi- 
ties do seek to control this essential activity to their own end. They do 
lay their cravings, yearnings, commands, and injunctions upon it, but 
are essentially distinct from it. It is essential activity, no more and no 
less, and is the life and vital spring of the whole mind. 



72 AUTOLOGY. ' 

itself that do not depend at all upon the external senses. Conscious- 
ness and the reason have sources of knowledge in themselves, the one 
of primary facts, and the other of primary ideas formed from those 
facts. As the reason knows a'first truth by its own especial power of 
knowing-, so the consciousness knows primary facts by its own inherent 
power of knowing or knowingness ; and these knowledges of the con- 
sciousness and the reason must exist before any cognition through the 
external or internal senses can take place. 

m. That which the reason knows is before that which is known 
through the senses, and that which the consciousness knows is before 
that which the reason knows. While the reason knows ideas and cog- 
nizes by them, the consciousness knows facts simply, primary facts, 
facts embraced in its own grasp directly, without the. intervention of any 
other faculty ; and the knowing of these facts by the consciousness is 
before the knowing of ideas by the reason, and before any other know- 
ing by the mind, and must first be before any other knowing can be. 
These primary facts of consciousness are the bases of the ideas of the 
reason, the facts from which they are formed ; and it is through the 
ideas thus formed alone that the objects of sense can be cognized. 

n. The consciousness knows and holds as facts, as we have already 
seen, 1st, itself; 2d, activity ; 3d, self-consciousness, or the conscious- 
ness of a self, or of individuality ; 4th, self-end, or self-law ; and £th, 
liberty ; and thus a complete 6elf, or will, with other facts, as we shall 
see when we come to take up the discussion of the intellect proper. 
And these facts are the bases of all the knowings of the reason, and all 
the cognitions through the senses. 

o. Facts, then, are before principles or ideas, and ideas are before 
cognition through the senses, either external or internal. All our knowl- 
edge, therefore, begins in facts; not facts by the senses, but facts given 
by the consciousness alone ; facts not cognized through any sense, ex- 
ternal or internal, but facts originally in the possession of the conscious- 
ness, and known and held by it independently and alone ; and upon 
these facts the reason forms its ideas. 

p. A priori ideas and principles, as the conditions of facts, cannot 
be affirmed of the facts of consciousness, for these facts must first 
exist in order that ideas can be. The ideas could not exist at all if 
facts did not first exist. An absolute a' priori origin of all knowledge, 
is historically false, as it is logically absurd and impossible. For an 
idea is an idea of something, and presupposes its existence, and con- 
sciousness here gives those somethings of which and out of which 
the reason forms its ideas. Ideas are indeed before the knowledge of 
facts that come through the senses, but not before the facts which con- 



THE WILL. 73 

sciousness itself gives by its own power, and before any other faculty 
either has acted or can act. 

q. We cannot tell that anything must be until we first know that 
something is. Hence principles or ideas can never be before facts, but 
facts must always be before ideas or principles. The consciousness 
gives us those primary facts, and consciousness is, of course, the first 
fact that consciousness gives. These observations belong to the nature 
of consciousness, of which we are here speaking, but will come up more 
fully when we take up the knowing faculty, or the Intellect proper, in 
the third part of this work. 

SECT. III. ESSENTIAL INDIVIDUALITY, OR SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS; 
OR CONSCIOUSNESS OF A SELF. — THE THIRD ELEMENT. 

a. The third element of a self or will is Individuality, self-recognition, 
authorship, or consciousness of a self. 

b. We have already had Essential Activity and Essential Intelligence; 
but these in their separate state, the one acting and the other knowing, 
do not give the consciousness of a self as an individual ; there needs to be 
something more. There must bo a unity of the activity and the intelli- 
gence. These, thus united, give a third element, and that is self-recog- 
nition, or a self recognized. This is the element of individuality, or 
authorship. 

c. The office of the consciousness is twofold, as we have already 
seen — to recognize the self and faculties of the self, together with 
the actions and cognitions of those faculties. Now, in this case and up to 
this point, it knows only the self ; for the self, or will, is as yet only in 
its elementary state, and has no faculties inhering in it to act. The 
consciousness here acts in the exercise of its own legitimate function, in 
taking cognizance of the essential and elemental activity, and thus giv- 
ing the consciousness of a self. There is as yet nothing further for it 
to take cognizance of, as it is now acting as an element of the self, and 
joining in the constituting of a self. 

d. The essential activity is, as we have before seen, not the action 
of a faculty of the self, but is an element of the self* It is spontaneous 
and necessary action, unknowing and dark. So, essential intelligence is 
elementary and necessary knowing ; it is a knowing which knows that 
it knows, and which knows immediately and without, any other object 
intervening ; it is simply introspective and self-seeing, affirming itself, 
without affirming any other object. , 

e. The synthesis of the essential activity and the essential intelligence 
gives a thing known ; i. e., the consciousness of an individuality, a unit 

10 



74 AUTOLOGY. 

conscious of itself, a self cognized, with all that is constituent of self, 
and hence an individual self-consciousness. 

/. It is evident that there can be no such thing as a self without self- 
consciousness. Intelligence alone is not a self, activity alone is not a 
self; but the two joined, giving a blended activity and intelligence in 
one unity, an activity known by its intelligence, and an intelligence 
made real by its activity, giving the knowledge of a self-conscious, self- 
active self, distinct and separate from all else, — this is a self; a self- 
conscious, self-active, a self-affirmed self. 

g. This self-consciousness is the broadest distinction between mind 
and matter. To know that we are a self, and not a mere thing, to 
feel conscious of intelligence, activity and life, blended in one distinct in- 
dividuality, — this distinguishes the mind from matter. Take this away, 
and the self ceases, and becomes a thing, and sinks to the level of dead 
matter, and blends with the mass of unconscious being. . And this ac- 
tivity and this consciousness in unity come to self-consciousness immedi- 
ately, without the intervention of any other process or faculty; for as yet 
there are no faculties ; the knowing is therefore direct, immediate, posi- 
tive, and absolute, and not indirect and relative. The self is just coming 
into being by the combining of its own elements. It as yet has received 
the endowment of no faculty, nor, in fact, are all its own elements 
yet produced. Its self-consciousness must, then, be elemental and 
immediate. 

h. It must here be observed that these elements, consciousness and 
activity, are mutually inherent. Elements thus differ from qualities. 
Qualities inhere in a substance, while elements inhere in each other. 
Elements are, therefore, to each other both substance and quality, as in 
this case : the consciousness is active, and is thus the substance of that 
activity, while the activity is its qualit}\ And so, vice versa, the ac- 
tivity is conscious, and is thus the substance of the consciousness, while 
the consciousness is its quality. Elements are thus mutually inherent, 
and mutually substance and quality to each other. These elements of 
essential activity and essential intelligence, thus combined, give self-con- 
sciousness, or the consciousness of a self. 

i. We doubtless come to a sort of external and demonstrated knowl- 
edge that we are a self by first perceiving an external object. We 
then, as a matter of course, become conscious that the act of perceiving 
is the act of our own self, and that our consciousness excludes the 
object perceived from our self; and hence that we and the object per- 
ceived are not identical, but different things ; our self-conscious self 
stands out clearly by itself. 

j. But this it did before the act of perceiving took place, or there 
would have been no perceiver. Consciousness had already grasped the 



THE WILL. T5 

essential activity, and the essential activity had already grasped the 
consciousness, and they twain were already one, mutually interpenetrant, 
and mutually comprehending-, each permeating the other, each being 
both centre and circumference, substance and quality, to the other, and 
both joining in one distinct, and demonstrated, and avowed self-con- 
sciousness ; and a consciousness of a self and of an individuality. And 
this individual already individualized puts forth the act of perceiving 
through the senses. 

k. So also we observe some objects to have fixed position and fixed 
time. We perceive them in such place and time, and not in any other ; 
and for that reason we infer that they cannot be mere illusions of our 
senses within us, but must have objective reality ; and hence also we 
conclude that we have a separate existence from these objects. 

I. But the foregone work and co-etaneous action of consciousness in 
all these cases is implied ; for we are conscious that we are a self, 
separated from all else by the mere force of consciousness grasping the 
essential activity, and before we perceive an external object, or can 
perceive it. We must be first conscious that we are a self, before we 
can refer the acts of the faculties to the self, or distinguish anything from 
the self. 

m. Therefore the essential consciousness takes cognizance of the self 
in grasping the essential activity, and that immediately, and thus gives 
us directly, absolutely, and in the first instance, individuality. 

n. Now, individuality has both definiteness and authority, and this 
makes a self or ego, and it may command to an intelligent end. 

o. And here wo see that the self is not a dark, but a light, not an un- 
known, but a known centre of the mind. The self is not a dark cavern, 
impenetrable and unexplorable, in which the faculties of the mind are 
thrust, as into the Black Hole of Calcutta, and where they are known 
only by their groans ; but the self is a luminous and transparent, intelli- 
gent and active central force, a life force, conscious from centre to cir- 
cumference, through and through, and quick and active with its own 
spontaneous and essential activity, the activity showing the intelligence, 
and the intelligence showing the activity, each interpenetrating and 
comprehending, and each being both substance and quality, both centre 
and circumference, to the other. 

p. Now, this self is an individual, and holds all the faculties of the 
mind in inherence, and takes cognizance of what they are and what they 
do. It is a self, an ego, and may have authority, and direct to a particular 
end. And this brings us to another element of the self or will ; for they 
are not yet all developed, and formed, and distinguished in their nature 
and places ; viz., Essential Self-law. 



76 AUTOLOGY. 



SECT. IV. ESSENTIAL SELF-LAW. — FOURTH ELEMENT. 

a. We have already found three elements of the self or will — 
essential activity, essential intelligence, and essential individuality. The 
first two are original and coeval; the third is a synthesis of the first two. 
Taking the third, which by the combination of the first two has become 
a distinct element, complete in itself, as essential individuality, and com- 
bining it again with the first two, we have thereby a fourth element ; 
viz., essential self-law or end of action. 

b. The essential individuality has in itself both definiteness and 
authority. It therefore, when combined again with the essential activity 
and essential intelligence, becomes unto them the essential law of their 
action. The authority and definiteness of individuality give an author- 
itative, and definite, and intelligent end of action ; and hence it is a law 
in the self. 

c. As it is manifest that consciousness, being the essential know- 
ing element, is different from self-consciousness, which is the essen- 
tially known, so also is it manifest that self-consciousness is dif- 
ferent from self-law, which is the essentially intended; the former 
is essential individuality, the latter is essential self-law or end of 
action ; and this is the fourth element in the self or will ; viz., essential 
self-law. 

d. Now, it is evident that though there may be intelligence, activity, 
and individuality, yet without self-law there is an incompleteness. A self, 
though conscious of its own existence, is as yet not an entirety ; it 
must have its own end of being and action in itself. And we see 
that the elements already found do of necessity give it its own end of 
being and action in itself. For the self of which we are conscious be- 
comes, in its own distinctness and separate individuality, a definite end 
and object to the self, and hence an authoritative law for the action 
of the self. 

e. The essential individuality is at first formed by combining the 
essential activity with the essential intelligence ; but when this third 
thing is formed, and stands out in distinctness and authorit}^ then it be- 
comes the master of the elements that compose it, and controls them to 
a specific end. 

/. The essential activity still, as ever, acts ; the essential consciousness 
still, as ever, knows; the essential individuality, as ever, is distinct; but 
the activity and the intelligence now act, not informing an individuality, 
but for that individuality already formed, and this individuality is the 
end for which they know and act. Then a unity of intelligence, activity, 
and individuality gives action intelligently directed to a definite and 



THE WILL. n 

intended end, which definite and intended end is the element of essential 
self-law. 

g. Now, this self-law is not self-love, nor self-hate ; not a love of 
well being, nor of ill being ; not of self-worthiness, nor of self-baseness ; 
it is not a love of the beautiful, nor of the deformed ; it is not a love 
of the benevolent, nor of the malevolent ; it is not a love of the right, 
nor of the wrong; but it is simply self-law, individuality, or ipseality, as 
the end of action ; whether for good or for evil, right or wrong, weal 
or woe. It is simply individuality as end, no more ; for there is as yet 
no capability of any other considerations. 

h. This essential self-law is not the spring of action, or of the mind's 
activity, for the essential activity is the spring of action, or of the 
mind's activity ; but the essential self-law is the end or law of action. 
The essential self-law only gives a defined and intelligent end, towards 
which the essential activity may move; thus is it emphatically the law 
of its action. This essential self-law derives authority and definiteness 
from the individuality, as from the other elements it derives activity 
and intelligence, and thus it has all the attributes of self-law. « 

i. Nor is this self-law the law over the will ; but it is law in the will, 
and constitutive of it. It is elemental law, entering into the nature, 
mechanism, and being of the will. It is not the' law by which the will 
is to be governed when it is a complete existence, for that is the con- 
science ; but it is that elemental law which is the mode of its existence. 

j. The law which is over the will as the rule of its action when it is 
a complete being, has a moral element in it, and is the rule of right and 
of duty to a complete person ; it is known as the Conscience, or " moral 
sense." But this essential law in the will, on the contrary, has no moral 
element in it, is no rule of duty to any person, but is only and essentially 
self-law, as the primary and elemental end of the essential activity. It 
is the law component of self, not the law over self when complete. 

k. A moral law is the rule of duty to a self; it has no office, nothing 
to govern, until the self is complete. It then becomes the rule by which 
that self is bound to be governed and judged. But an essential law, one 
that enters into the essence of the being of the self, is an element in its 
existence, that is, before the self can be, and helps to create that very 
self, over which a moral law, or a rule of duty, may afterwards be placed. 

I. Therefore these two laws, viz., essential law and moral law, or 
governmental law, must not be confounded. The one enters into the 
constitution and being of the self or will, and is of its elements and 
essence ; the other is a law over the self or will, when it is in existence 
and perfect, and is a rule of duty for its action. Elemental law gives to 
the will the capability of choosing ; moral law gives the rule for choos- 
ing ; the former gives it power to choose any way, the latter requires 



76 AUTOLOGY. 



SECT. IV. ESSENTIAL SELF-LAW. — FOURTH ELEMENT. 

a. We have already found three elements of the self or will — ■ 
essential activity, essential intelligence, and essential individuality. The 
first two are original and coeval ; the third is a synthesis of the first two. 
Taking the third, which by the combination of the first two has become 
a distinct element, complete in itself, as essential individuality, and com- 
bining it again with the first two, we have thereby a fourth element ; 
viz., essential self-law or end of action. 

b. The essential individuality has in itself both definiteness and 
authority. It therefore, when combined again with the essential activity 
and essential intelligence, becomes unto them the essential law of their 
action. The authority and definiteness of individuality give an author- 
itative, and definite, and intelligent end of action ; and hence it is a law 
in the self. 

c. As it is manifest that consciousness, being the essential know- 
ing element, is different from self-consciousness, which is the essen- 
tially known, so also is it manifest that self-consciousness is dif- 
ferent from self-law, which is the essentially intended; the former 
is essential individuality, the latter is essential self-law or end of 
action; and this is the fourth element in the self or will ; viz., essential 
self-law. 

d. Now, it is evident that though there may be intelligence, activity, 
and individuality, yet without self-law there is an incompleteness. A self, 
though conscious of its own existence, is as yet not an entirety ; it 
must have its own end of being and action in itself. And we see 
that the elements already found do of necessity give it its own end of 
being and action in itself. For the self of which we are conscious be- 
comes, in its own distinctness and separate individuality, a definite end 
and object to the self, and hence an authoritative law for the action 
of the self. 

e. The essential individuality is at first formed by combining the 
essential activity with the essential intelligence ; but when this third 
thing is formed, and stands out in distinctness and authority, then it be- 
comes the master of the elements that compose it, and controls them to 
a specific end. 

/. The essential activity still, as ever, acts; the essential consciousness 
still, as ever, knows; the essential individuality, as ever, is distinct; but 
the activity and the intelligence now act, not in forming an individuality, 
but for that individuality already formed, and this individuality is the 
end for which they know and act. Then a unity of intelligence, activity, 
and individuality gives action intelligently directed to a definite and 



THE WILL. 77 

intended end, which definite and intended end is the element of essential 
self -law. 

g. Now, this self-law is not self-love, nor self-hate ; not a love of 
well being, nor of ill being ; not of self-worthiness, nor of self-baseness ; 
it is not a love of the beautiful, nor of the deformed ; it is not a love 
of the benevolent, nor of the malevolent ; it is not a love of the right, 
nor of the wrong; but it is simply self-law, individuality, or ipseality, as 
the end of action; whether for good or for evil, right or wrong, weal 
or woe. It is simply individuality as end, no more ; for there is as yet 
no capability of any other considerations. 

h. This essential self-law is not the spring of action, or of the mind's 
activity, for the essential activity is the spring of action, or of the 
mind's activity ; but the essential self-law is the end or law of action. 
The essential self-law only gives a defined and intelligent end, towards 
which the essential activity may move; thus is it emphatically the law 
of its action. This essential self-law derives authority and definiteness 
from the individuality, as from the other elements it derives activity 
and intelligence, and thus it has all the attributes of self-law. « 

i. Nor is this self-law the law over the will ; but it is law in the will, 
and constitutive of it. It is elemental law, entering into the nature, 
mechanism, and being of the will. It is not the' law by which the will 
is to be governed when it is a complete existence, for that is the con- 
science ; but it is that elemental law which is the mode of its existence. 

j. The law which is over the will as the rule of its action when it is 
a complete being, has a moral element in it, and is the rule of right and 
of duty to a. complete person ; it is known as the Conscience, or " moral 
sense." But this essential law in the will, on the contrary, has no moral 
element in it, is no rule of duty to any person, but is only and essentially 
self-law, as the primary and elemental end of the essential activity. It 
is the law component of self, not the law over self when complete. 

k. A moral law is the rule of duty to a self; it has no office, nothing 
to govern, until the self is complete. It then becomes the rule by which 
that self is bound to be governed and judged. But an essential law, one 
that enters into the essence of the being of the self, is an element in its 
existence, that is, before the self can be, and helps to create that very 
self, over which a moral law, or a rule of duty, may afterwards be placed. 

I. Therefore these two laws, viz., essential law and moral law, or 
governmental law, must not be confounded. The one enters into the 
constitution and being of the self or will, and is of its elements and 
essence ; the other is a law over the self or will, when it is in existence 
and perfect, and is a rule of duty for its action. Elemental law gives to 
the will the capability of choosing ; moral law gives the rule for choos- 
ing ; the former gives it power to choose any way, the latter requires 



7S AUTOLOGY. 

that it choose the right way ; the first is the law of liberty, the second is 
the law of duty ; the one is in the will's constitution, and gives it liberty, 
the other is over the will already constituted and free, and requires of 
it duty, and is known as the conscience, of which we shall speak in the 
proper place. 

m. Here it is the object to show what elemental self-law is, and to 
distinguish it from the essential activity which is mere spontaneity on 
the one hand, and moral law, which is the rule of duty, on the other. 
The first is an element of the self, constituting the individuality ; the 
other is the moral law over the self or will when complete. Essential 
self-law is in the will, and over the essential activity, yet below and 
under the moral law. Moral law is the rule for this same self-law, and 
exists outside of the will and after it is complete. Essential activity is 
the spring of the mind's activity ; essential self-law is the law over 
essential activity, which gives the will liberty ; while moral law, or the 
conscience, is the rule of the will's duty. And this brings us to the 
fifth and last element of the self, will or essence of the mind — Liberty, 
Essential Liberty. 

SECT. V. ESSENTIAL LIBERTY. —THE FIFTH ELEMENT. 

a. .The fifth and last element of the will is Essential Liberty. This 
element is the product of the combination of all the preceding elements. 
We have already found essential activity, essential intelligence, essen- 
tial individuality, essential self-law. The essential activity and the 
essential intelligence going forth in their spontaneity and uniting, give 
us a third element, essential individuality, as a new and distinct element. 
Then the spontaneity of the essential activity, and the essential intelli- 
gence going forth again and uniting with the essential individuality, 
produces essential law, or end of action as a distinct element. Still 
again, the spontaneity of the essential activity, and the essential intelli- 
gence, and the essential individuality, goes forth, and uniting with the 
essential law, produces liberty as a distinct element. 

b. And thus is liberty produced, essential, elementary, absolute lib- 
erty. It is the product of the combination of essential activity, essen- 
tial intelligence, essential individuality, and essential law into one life. 
As essential activity combined with essential intelligence produces 
essential individuality, so does the combination of essential individuality 
with essential intelligence and essential activity produce essential law, 
or end of action ; and so again does the combination of essential law 
or end with essential individuality, essential intelligence, and essential 
activity, produce essential liberty. 

c. And what is liberty ? Liberty is not, as we have seen, unre* 



THE WILL. 19 

strained activity ; for if it were, then essential activity in its blind un- 
consciousness would be liberty. Nor is it simply intelligent activity 
that constitutes liberty ; for simply knowing what our action is, is not 
to act freely ; it may be only to know fatality. Nor is simply acting 
from individual dictation alone, liberty ; it may be mere arbitrariness, 
and not liberty. So also the acting according to law alone is not lib- 
erty, for laws. may be tyrannies ; but liberty must have all these ele- 
ments, or it is not liberty. 

d. Liberty must be a combination of them all in one undivided and 
indivisible whole and unity. Liberty must have its own essential activ- 
ity in itself, or of course it cannot be capable of freedom. It must also 
have its own essential intelligence, or it cannot be free, but must be 
bound in dependence on another ; it must also have its own end of ac- 
tion intelligently held within itself as the law of its action ; for if it 
had not, then, all its action would, as we have seen, stop short of lib- 
erty. And even this last element of self-law, or end of action, could not 
give liberty alone, but must be composed of all the other preceding ele- 
ments, and combined with them, and then liberty can be and is pro- 
duced. Essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, 
essential law, — these, in combination and in inseparable coalescence, 
forming a single and indivisible whole, these produce and give liberty. 

e. To the question, then, " What is liberty ? " we give this answer : 
Liberty is essential activity, enlightened by essential intelligence, 
directed by essential individuality, according to essential law. Or, it is 
self-activity or life enlightened by self-intelligence, directed by self- 
authority, according to self-law or self-end. And this is the coales- 
cence in one living and indivisible whole and unity of essential activity, 
essential intelligence, essential individuality, and essential law, which 
one living whole is. liberty. 

f. Liberty, when thus composed, is a distinct and independent ele- 
ment, standing out by itself alone. Just as individuality, when com- 
posed of the preceding elements, stands out alone, and just as essen- 
tial law, or self-end, when composed of the preceding elements, stands 
out alone and distinct, so, liberty composed of the preceding elements, 
when complete, is an entirety in itself, and stands out as a distinct ele- 
ment of the will, to be combined yet again with the preceding elements 
in their distinctness, to compose, constitute, and complete the will. 

g. And now, with regard to this liberty, it must be observed that it is 
original, elemental, essential, underived, independent, and absolute, as 
all liberty, in its very nature and conception, must be. We have it here 
in its own original fountain, living, upspringing, boiling, pure, self- 
sustained, perennial, a spring of life in itself. 

h. We have it here alone and with no other faculties of the mind 



80 AUTOLOGY. 

around or mingled with it. It stands by itself, apart, in its own living' 
essence. It is after essential activity, it is after essential intelligence, it 
is after essential individuality or self, it -is after essential law ; but it is 
before the being of the will, and an element of it. The self is of course 
before liberty, for essential individuality is self, properly speaking. 

i. Will and self are identical, as we all along have said, but only so 
far as the self goes ; the will is greater than the self. Will has liberty 
in it ; but self, in its restricted sense, as individuality, has not liberty ; 
but liberty has self as an element in its own composition, and is made 
up of it and the other elements. Thus is liberty produced ; thus has 
it being ; thus is liberty essentially in the will as its last and com- 
pleting element. 

j. The will has activity, it has intelligence, it has individuality, it has 
law, and thus it can intelligently direct its own action to its own end, 
and that is liberty. Self-activity, self-intelligence, self-individuality, self- 
law, — these give the will liberty, essential, elemental, original, underived, 
absolute liberty ; liberty as of the elements and essence of the mind 
itself ; and thus we have all the elements of the will at length developed 
and produced, standing distinctly before us ; and now we may combine 
them, and thus produce the will, the object of all our search thus far, 
and see what kind of a thing the will is. We are now ready to an- 
swer the question, " What is the completed will ? " 

SECT. VI. WHAT IS THE COMPLETED AND ESSENTIAL WILL ? 

a. The will is the product of all the five elements hitherto discovered ; 
viz., essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, 
essential law, and essential liberty. These combining and coalescing 
form one completed will, perfect and entire in itself, having all the ele- 
ments indispensable to it in itself, nothing redundant, nothing wanting.' 
When the essential activity has combined with the essential intelligence, 
and thus produced individuality ; and when, again, the spontaneity of 
this essential activity and intelligence has combined with individuality, 
and produced essential law ; and when, still again, the spontaneity of 
essential activity, intelligence, and individuality has combined with 
essential law, and produced liberty, and thus produced all the elements 
of the will, then its producing force is spent ; it can produce no more 
elements, for there can be no more ; but it now combines them all into 
one rounded and completed whole, one spheral unity, and that whole, 
that unity, is the will. 

b. Having completed the will as its last and consummating product, 
the evolving agency of the essential activity and intelligence turns back 



THE WILL. 81 

upon itself, and rounds itself into a whole, circumscribing all the' ele- 
ments, and compressing them into one living unity. 

For when liberty is attained, then is there nothing wanting to make a 
complete will ; and the acting and knowing agency expands no farther, 
for its vitality is all developed, the elements are all produced, and the 
will is complete. More would be an excrescence, less would be a de- 
ficiency. The will has now its own activity, its own intelligence, its 
own individuality, its own law, its own liberty, and thus it is a complete 
will, complete in itself. 

c. Thus the will complete and entire stands forth alone and inde- 
pendent, composed of its own elements, and self-possessed, self-poised, 
and self-efficient as a will perfect in itself. 

All the power which the will has, it has within itself, for as yet no other 
faculties are in being ; as yet there are no affections, there is no reason, 
no senses, no conscience, but only will, with its elements alone. And 
we see that alone it is a full-orbed, full-armed, competent and efficient 
free-will, having self-activity, self-intelligence, self-authority, self-law, 
or self-end, and liberty in itself alone as its constituent elements, 
which give it being. It does not derive any of its powers of efficient 
action, nor any of its properties as a complete and perfect will, from any- 
thing out of itself, but has these in itself as constituents of its nature. 

d. It borrows neither the capability to act, nor the authority to act, 
nor the law of action, nor the liberty to act, from any other faculty or 
circumstance, but has them all essentially and efficiently in itself. The 
will is thus an entirety in itself, a self-acting, self-enlightening, self- 
directing, self-legislating, and self-enfranchising forge, whose centre and 
essence are itself, whose elements, like the central forces of nature, 
press equally in all dh-ections, and ensphere themselves around their 
own centre, being themselves, each, centre and circumference, substance 
and quality, component and resultant, in one complete, coalescent, and 
indivisible whole, self-poised, self-sufficient, and absolute. 

e. The will as to its own efficiency, composed of such elements, is, 
therefore, absolute and independent ; has unlimited power in its own 
sphere of action, being able to act freely and in its own right at all 
times, with no possibility of any hinderance except by its annihilation : 
while it lives it has free and absolute power to act, in itself; this is its 
nature and mechanism. Whether the man has the power to carry out the 
acts of the will is another question ; but the power of the will in itself to 
act in its own legitimate function of willing is unlimited, and absolute, 
and indestructible, and inalienable, save by the death of the will itself. 

/. Thus is the will a complete will, having in itself the complete 
power of choice, that is, the efficient power of choice. The occasional 
or objective power of choice lies out of the will, while the efficient or 
11 



82 AUTOLOGY. 

subjective power of choice lies within the will. The will is not appetite, 
it is not affection, it is not conscience, it is not a mere blind force or 
spontaneity. It is not a mere fulcrum over which contending- appetites, 
affections, passions, or motives balance and adjust themselves ; but it is 
an effective, living agent, having its own activity, intelligence, authority, 
law, and liberty in itself, and as such is capable of free, independent 
action whenever it shall have occasion or opportunity to act ; that is, it 
has absolute power of action within its own sphere. 

The will is now ready to enter upon its appropriate field of activity, 
as a free, competent, and efficient disposer of the mind. And this leads 
us to consider certain "Will Questions," as the relation of the will to 
the self and substance of the mind, to liberty, and to choice, and some 
others, before we proceed to the field of the will's action. 



CHAPTER VII. 

WILL QUESTIONS. 

SECT. I. THE RELATION OF THE SELF, THE WILL, AND THE PER- 
SONALITY, TO EACH OTHER AND TO THE ESSENCE OF THE MIND; 
AND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE ESSENCE OF THE MIND 
AND THE ESSENCE OF MATTER. 

a. The will and the self have been treated as identical through this 
work, and both of them as identical with the substance or essence of 
the mind. And this is true ; yet, to avoid confusion, it should be dis- 
tinctly noted that will and self are identical only so far as the self 
extends. 

b. The self is made up of essential activity and essential intelligence 
combined in one individuality ; this is self proper. Will contains not 
only these two original elements, essential activity and essential intel- 
ligence, but also all the remaining elements — essential individuality, 
which is the self in its proper and restricted sense, and essential law, 
and essential liberty. 

c. Thus will is identical with self, to be sure, but it is also some- 
thing more ; it is self grown up : Self is childhood ; Will is youth ; Per- 
sonality is manhood. Will and self coalesce, and are the centre and 
essence of the mind ; while personality is the will with all the faculties 
of the mind inhering in it, complete and entire, a full mind, will, 
affections, intellect, and conscience. 



THE WILL. 83 

d. It is right, therefore, to call the will the essence of the mind, and 
identical with the self. It is right to say that the essence of the per- 
sonality is in the will, for that is only to say that the will is the essence 
of the mind. 

e. From these facts we make the following inferences as to the essence 
and faculties of the mind, and as to the difference between the essence 
of the mind and the essence of matter. 

1st. If the will is the substance or essence of the mind, then all the 
properties, qualities, or faculties of the mind — for they all mean the same 
thing — inhere in the will as their essence or substance. All properties 
must inhere in some substance ; if they have no substance or essence 
in which to inhere, they inhere in nothing; and if they inhere in nothing, 
they are the properties of nothing, and of course are themselves noth- 
ing. And as the substance or essence of other objects is distinct from 
the qualities of those objects, so also is the substance or essence of 
the mind distinct from the properties or qualities of the mind. 

2d. We have before shown, in Chapter II. Sect. II., that the substance 
of the mind differs from the substance of matter in that it has self-con- 
sciousness ; and as this self-conscious substance was shown to be the me 
or self, and as this self is shown to be the will, we conclude that the ' 
substance of mind differs from the substance or essence of matter in the 
further particular, that it has the power of self-disposition. 

3d. But as we have already shown that the act of self-disposition is a 
free act, of necessity and by its own nature it follows that the substance 
or essence of the mind differs from, the substance or essence of matter 
in this other respect, viz., that it is a free, self-disposing activity, and 
consequently has liberty ; for self-disposition is the essence of liberty, 
as it is of choice. Every act of choice, therefore, is liberty acting and 
exercising itself. It is the will showing its liberty. It is the self or 
essence of the mind disposing of itself. The disposing of the self by 
an act of choice is the original outgoing of liberty, creating and.mani-. 
festing itself. The substance or essence of the mind is therefore a free, 
self-disposing activity, disposing of itself as will, by an act of choice. 

SECT. II. THE RELATION OF THE WILL TO LIBERTY. 

a. Liberty we have seen to be a constituent element of the mind. 
The will and liberty are identical, in that the will has all the elements 
that liberty has, and then has liberty also. The will is therefore com- 
posed of liberty, a liberty which embodies all the other elements of 
the will, and then recombines itself with them to produce the will. 

b. The will and liberty have the relation of body and soul, except 
that the soul, in this case, is a constituent of the body, as well as its 



84 AUTOLOGY. 

spirit and life ; for the essential activity and the essential intelligence pro- 
duce essential individuality, or self, strictly speaking. The combination, 
again, of individuality, as a distinct element, with the essential activity 
and the essential intelligence, produces essential law ; and the recom- 
bination of essential law, as a distinct element, with the essential activity, 
essential intelligence, and essential individuality, produces liberty, which 
is the last element of the will ; and as it includes all the other elements, 
it becomes the living soul of the will. Then the recombination of this 
essential liberty with the other elements completes the will, and the 
will becomes the body of which liberty is the soul. 

c. No new element is added to produce the will ; all were produced 
when liberty was produced ; and hence liberty is identical with the will 
so far as it goes, just as self is identical with the will so far as it 
goes. Will has self, and something more; so will has liberty, and 
something more. Will is therefore identical with liberty, and is still 
something more. It has liberty in combination with all the other elements, 
whereas liberty itself has only the four elements that precede it combined 
in itself. 

d. True liberty has liberty in its own nature, yet it is produced by 
the preceding elements, and has no existence until they combine to 
create it. Then, being created, its combining with the elements that pro- 
duced it forms not a new, sixth element, but completes and concludes 
them all into one will. The will does not therefore exist, and then be- 
come free, but is itself composed of freedom 'and other elements, which 
existed before the will, and gave it .existence. This liberty 'is essential 
and within the will itself. It is not obtained from any external circum- 
stances or conditions. It is a something which belongs to the nature 
and the elements of the will ; is underived, and incommunicable, and 
imperishable ; it is original and absolute liberty within the will itself, 
and a part of it ; a liberty which, like the life itself of the will, is indis- 
pensable to its existence. The will can no more exist without being 
free than it can exist without life. Self-action, self-intelligence, self- 
authority, and self-end, — these are the element of liberty, as they are of 
the will ; they are the essence of the soul itself. 

e. The mind, as we have seen in Chapter II., has both essence and 
qualities, and that essence we have found to be the self or will, and that 
will we have seen to be made up of these five elements — essential 
activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, essential law, and 
essential liberty. These elements are also the elements of the essence 
of the mind inhering in one another, and being mutually substance and 
quality to each other respectively, yet forming one undivided and in- 
divisible whole or unit, one single and simple self, will, or essence of the 
mind, in which all its other faculties inhere, and have being and unity. 



THE WILL. 85 

/. Thus is liberty seen to be, not an adjunct, attendant, or accident of 
the will, but an element of the mind itself; it is seen to belong to the 
essence of the mind, without which neither mind nor will could exist. 
Thus is it plain that liberty is in the will, and not outside of it ; 'that it 
does not depend on alternatives, or on motives, on either indifference or 
the power of contrary choice, but that it is in the very nature and being 
of the will itself, and is its being and its nature. 



SECT. III. THE RELATION OF THE FREE ACT OF THE WILL, IN 
CHOOSING, TO THE SPONTANEOUS AND NECESSARY ACTS OF THE 
OTHER FACULTIES OF THE MIND. 

a. Choice is the action of the will after it is complete. We have 
been tracing the action of the elements of the will in their combinations 
in the formation of the will; now we are able to consider the will as 
complete, and as acting as a unit, with the force of all its combined ele- 
ments ; and the act which the will thus puts forth we call choice. This 
act of choice is the sole act of the will as will. As substance or essence 
of the mind, it, with its elements, has other functions, such as holding 
the other faculties of the mind in inherence, and taking cognizance of 
their doings, and furnishing facts of being and action to the reason ; but 
as will, it is simply a chooser, and choosing is a work of the complete 
will, using all its elements. 

b. We must observe that the several acts by which the elements of 
the will have combined to form the self — law, liberty, and will — have all 
been formation acts producing being ; that is, the being of self, the being 
of law, the being of liberty, and lastly, the being of the will. 

But now, the existence of the will being complete, its action is not 
productive of being, but is the action of a being already complete, dis- 
posing of itself as complete in relation to some other object. 

c. Choice we have already found to be an act of self-disposition, an 
act of the will disposing of itself. We shall more clearly see this when 
we recur to the process, already so frequently gone over, of the will's 
formation, and then, when the process is complete, go on with the 
action of the complete will, and mark the different nature of the action. 
First, the spontaneity of the essential activity and the essential intel- 
ligence go forth and unite, and by this operation produce the essential 
individuality, or self. 

This is the self in its strict sense, though we use the term sometimes 
for the whole will, not because it includes the will, but the will includes 
it. Then the spontaneity of the essential activity and the essential in- 
telligence goes forth and unites with the essential individuality, or self, 
and, uniting with them, produces essential law. Then, again, the spon- 



86 AUTOLOGY. 

taneity of the essential activity and essential intelligence goes forth and 
unites with the essential individuality, or self, and the essential law, and 
produces liberty. And lastly, the spontaneity of the essential activity 
and the essential intelligence goes forth and unites with essential indi- 
viduality, essential law, and essential liberty, and forms and completes 
the will, making them all one unity and one whole. 

d. And, now, this formative process being complete by the combining 
of the elements of the will, and the whole rounded up into one entirety 
as a sphere, the productive agencies cease, and the produced agent 
begins to act. 

e. And this will-agent acts in the employment of its own powers in 
the act of choice. The will, having all the elements compounded and 
summed up in itself, becomes prime mover in its own right, and laying 
its free, legislative, sovereign, intelligent, and active command upon 
all its own forceful and efficient elements, orders them to do its 
bidding. The will now is in command, and — moved by its own essential 
activity, under the light of its own essential intelligence, putting forth 
its own essential individuality, or authority, setting before it its own 
essential law, or end of action, and exercising its own liberty — disposes of 
itself with regard to some object of choice; and this is theact of choice, 
this is choice. Choice is the act by which the will disposes of itself 
in relation to some object of choice. In the act of choice the will is 
self-active, self-intelligent, self-commanded, self-legislated, self-freed, and 
hence its act of choice is a free act. 

/. And this leads us to consider the relation of choice to the other 
faculties of the mind. By discerning what they do, we shall see the rela- 
tion of them to choice, as well as the relation of the will to choice. 
Choice is the exclusive work and office of the will. No other faculty 
can perform the act of choice, for the will alone has the efficient power 
to choose ; the occasional power to choose is in the other faculties of the 
mind, but the efficient power to choose belongs exclusively to the will. 

g. But when the actual work of choosing comes to be done, great 
confusion is liable to arise from confounding the action of the spon- 
taneity of the affections, or of the intellect, or of the conscience, with 
the will, and substituting the one for the other. These several mental 
acts must be kept distinct, or we shall find perpetual contradiction and 
confusion. That it is not the essential activity or spontaneity that 
chooses, or can choose, we have abundantly shown. That the essential 
activity and essential intelligence are constituents of the will, and not, in 
their action, acts of the will, when the will is complete, we have also 
shown. Choice is not the act of the essential activity, or of the essential 
intelligence, but of the complete will, of which they are constituent ele- 
ments. We may, therefore, dismiss that as settled. 



THE WILL. 87 

h. Then the act of the affections is not an act of choice ; they simply 
crave or desire, or loathe or abhor. They simply show repugnance or 
affinity ; but that is not choice. Affectioning is a necessary and purely 
appetitive act, involuntary and unthinking. 

i. So the intellect may judge and discriminate ; it may select the best 
object of choice, and set it before the mind, to be chosen or rejected 
afterwards : but it does not cnoose ; it acts necessarily, according to the 
laws of the intellect. It simply discerns and judges facts as they come 
up, and it is compelled by the laws of intelligence themselves to judge 
and select just as it does. If it did not, it would be false to its own 
talent and its own intelligence. Now, such an act of selecting is not a 
free, but a necessary act, and just as much so as any act of the appetites 
or the affections. The intellect would be false to itself if it did not select 
just as its own intelligence decides that it must. The same is true of 
the conscience in discerning the moral quality of anything ; it also acts 
necessarily. 

j. All these actions respectively, as the action of the original essential 
activity and intelligence in their spontaneity, the action of all and any 
of the affections, whether individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, 
gesthetical, or religious, and the action of the intellect also in judging 
and selecting, and the action of the conscience in moralizing, — all these 
actions are necessary actions, and not free actions ; while the act of the 
will in choosing is a free act. 

k. The whole difficulty and contradiction about the freedom and 
necessity of the act of choice will be relieved and removed when we 
keep the will, the affections, the intellect, and the conscience separate 
and distinct from each other; the will alone having the power of free ac- 
tion, and all the other faculties having only a necessary and involuntary 
action ; the will alone having the efficient and subjective power of 
choice, while all the other faculties have only the objective and occasional 
power of choice ; that is, they can only furnish the occasions, and the 
opportunities, and the- objects of choice. 

I. Edwards and all his school have always confounded the action of 
the will and the action of the affections ; Locke confounded the will and 
the understanding ; Kant and his followers confounded the will and the 
conscience ; others, still, confound the will and the sesthetical affections, 
such as the love of art and beauty, while they have individual, social, 
patriotic, philanthropic, and religious affections as merely appetitive. 
They suppose that because the eesthetical affections contemplate purely 
theoretical and assthetic objects, their cravings and aversions are free 
acts, and can give freedom to the will ; whereas they only give an alter- 
native to the other affections, and are of the same nature. There is no 
liberty in the action of any of the affections, or of the intellect in any of 



88 AUTOLOGY. 

its parts, or of the conscience, but in the will only ; the will alone is 
free. 

m. Consequently, if the action of any of the other faculties be 
mingled with the act of choice, then that act is vitiated, and becomes 
itself not a free, but a necessary act. All of Edwards's confusion arose 
out of this. Sometimes he spoke of the will alone, and then he saw 
its freedom ; anon he mingled its action with that of the affections and 
the understanding, and then he made it necessary action ; and then 
again he had it both ways, and thus it became mixed action. And just 
at this point, where he himself is confused, and his readers are con- 
fused, and neither he nor they can see their way out, but all are in a mass 
of contradiction and perplexity, worrying and exhausting themselves, — 
just there, where they are all overwhelmed and confounded, and not one 
of them knows either what he himself means, or what Edwards means, 
or what anybody means, and when all meaning is lost in absurdity, just 
there they cry out, " Great is Edwards! " great, because " to be great 
is to be misunderstood," or rather to have nothing that is understandable. 
Edwards was bewildered, and when he had bewildered anybody else, 
then he had one admirer. 

n. Just so they who took sides opposed to Edwards failed, because 
while he confounded the acts of the will in choice with the affections 
and the understanding in their action, they confounded the will and 
choice with the mere spontaneity of the essential activity and the essen- 
tial intelligence, which also acts necessarily, and has no free action, and of 
course would vitiate the act of choice whenever it was introduced into it. 
This Edwards saw, and got his victory by showing, what was true, that 
their system was just as necessitarian as his, and that their will with its 
self-determination, which itself had to be predetermined, was just as 
much a machine as was his, with its strongest motive, as indeed it was. 

o. It must, then, not be forgotten that the will alone has liberty, the 
will alone is free, the will alone has the power of free choice, and choice 
is the act of the will alone ; exclusively and alone must the will choose, 
while the other faculties must furnish the objects and occasions for 
choice. The will alone can act freely ; the other faculties act always, 
and invariably, and by their nature, necessarily. The will alone is the 
efficient and free chooser. 

p. Other faculties may sensate the objects of choice as do the senses, 
but their action is not a choice, and is involuntary and necessary. An- 
other faculty may cognize the object sensated, as does the reason ; but 
this action is not a choice, and is also necessary action. Other faculties 
may crave or loathe, may appreciate or depreciate, may admire or de- 
spise, love or hate, approve or disapprove an object of choice, and call 
it agreeable or disagreeable, useful or injurious, benevolent or malevo- 



THE WILL. 89 

lent, beautiful or deformed, divine or devilish ; but this action is not 
only not a choice with regard to anything, but it is the necessary, and 
appetitive, and involuntary action of these faculties of the mind. 

q. Still another faculty of the mind may moralize with regard to an 
object as an act of choice, and decide that it is right or wrong, 
that it is in accordance with or repugnant to the rules of duty and the 
laws of God, and as such ought or ought not to be chosen ; but this 
is not to choose or refuse the object, but is only to pronounce judg- 
ment on its moral character, and is not a free but a necessary act. So 
also may the intellect select an object as, on the whole, the one fitted 
to be chosen, and set it before the will for that purpose; but this action 
of the intellect is also necessary and involuntary action. 

r. All these actions, it will be seen, are not only not free, but are 
not a choice of an object. They only find out, examine, like or dislike, 
select and bring forward, the object of choice ; they do not choose ; and 
in thus finding out, in thus cognizing, in thus liking or disliking, thus 
regarding as agreeable or disagreeable, as useful or useless, as beautiful 
or deformed, as benevolent or malevolent, as right or wrong, and in 
thus selecting an object as on the whole fittest to be chosen, these fac- 
ulties all act necessarily and involuntarily, but their actions are not 
choices. 

s. Here is the point of demarcation between necessary action and 
free action, between the occasional power of choice, which lies out of 
the will, and the efficient power of choice, which lies in the will. The 
former is necessary ; the latter is free : the former does not choose ; it 
only provides the objects and the occasions of choice ; the latter chooses 
alone and exclusively, and alone and exclusively has liberty. And 
when the act and the faculty of choice arc thus discriminated from the 
other acts and the other faculties of the mind, then there is no more 
difficulty about the nature or the freedom of the will or of the act of 
choice. 

t. That the will is free, and that choice is free, and that the will alone 
chooses, while the other faculties do not choose, but only procure the 
objects of choice, and are not free either in their nature or in their ac- 
tion, is clear, and clears the subject of all its difficulties. This, then, is 
the relation of spontaneous action to free action, and of the will in the 
act of choice to the action of the other faculties. It alone chooses, it 
alone has freedom, it alone can make free choice ; and there is no choice 
but free choice. All the other acts of the mind are not choices, are not 
free, and must ever be kept distinct from the acts of the will, which 
alone are free, and from the will, which alone can choose. 
12 



90 AUTOLOGY. 



SECT. IV. THE RELATION OF LIBERTY TO THE ACT OF CHOICE. 

a. Liberty we have seen to be a constituent of the will, while choice 
is an act of the will already complete. We combine essential activity, 
essential intelligence, essential individuality, and essential law, to pro- 
duce essential liberty, and then combine this liberty again with these 
essential elements to produce and complete the will ; and when the will 
is all complete, then it puts forth the act of choice, exercising all its own 
constituent elements in that act. 

b. As liberty is a constituent element of the will, of course liberty is 
exercised in the act of choice ; for the will could no more choose with- 
out liberty than it could exist without liberty. Liberty is an essential 
element in the being of the will, and so the will is a free will, and in 
exercising its elements it must exercise its freedom, and is free both in 
being and in action. That which is free in its nature cannot be other- 
wise than free in its action. And the will is composed of freedom ; "it 
is of freedom all compact; " and when it acts it exercises its own nature, 
and acts out its inwrought, inborn, and essential freedom in the act of 
choice. 

c. The will is the primal centre of all being, action, intelligence, 
authority, design, liberty, and choice in man. Such a will, forceful, self- 
ruled, and free, has of course self-government. It is now read}'- and 
competent to go out and act for itself, to enter upon its own appropriate 
field, and choose, refuse, announce, and dispose of itself as occasion may 
be afforded ; for it has its activity, intelligence, authority, law, and 
liberty in itself. It is self-ruled ; and self-government is liberty every- 
where, whether in the state or in- the individual : whatever has the 
elements of self-government in itself has liberty in itself. The will has 
these, and does direct its own action to its own end ; hence it is free. 

d. And here we see how this essential freedom of the will, and the 
action of the will in the- exercise of its fx-eedom, coincide with the 
nature of the act of choice, as it was given in Chapter III., on the 
"Nature of Choice." It was there shown historically, and as a matter 
of consciousness, that the act of choice is an act of self-disposition; 
that in choosing, the will disposes of the self; and that an act of self- 
disposition must be a free act in its very nature. Now, we see from the 
nature of liberty that it consists, in its essence, in self-law or self-end, 
which is one and the same thing as self-disposition. 

e. Liberty and choice, then, are one in nature, in that they both con- 
sist of self-disposition. Self-disposition is liberty, self-disposition is 
choice. Liberty has, as we have repeatedly seen, self-activity, self- 
authority, and self-law ; these combined give liberty. And surely self- 



THE WILL. 91 

authority, acting under self-law, is nothing more than an act of self- 
disposition, and nothing less. Yet it differs from choice in that it is a 
constituent act of the will by which liberty is produced, while* the act 
of choice is the complete will disposing of itself in reference to some 
object of choice. 

f. It is the self that is compounded into liberty by combining 
its individuality with self-law ; while it is the complete will that 
makes a choice by the exercise of its own activity, intelligence, individ- 
uality, law, and liberty. And as the will and the self are identical, 
so far as the self goes, so are the nature of freedom and the nature of 
choice identical, so far as freedom goes. The same self is disposed of, 
in producing freedom, that the will disposes of in the act of choice, and 
by the same means, viz., essential individuality or authority, acting ac- 
cording to essential self-law. Yet in the one case the self is disposed 
of to create liberty, while in the other it is disposed of to some specific 
object of choice external to itself. Choice, therefore, embodies liberty, 
and exercises it in all its actions, in that it disposes of the self. 

g. The will is ever poised on its own self-law, its uwn self-end of 
action ; and resting on this poise, it makes and performs all its acts of 
choice, while completely self-balanced ; and this being self-balanced is 
liberty. To be able thus to dispose of the self, is liberty ; to have the 
spring of action, the intelligence of action, and the law of action in one's 
self, and to rest on one's self as author and end, and then to dispose of 
the self by this authority and this end, — this is choice, and this is liberty. 
And this choice and this liberty are the same in nature, whether the will 
chooses or refuses, whether it chooses the strongest motive or the weak- 
est, whether it chooses directly or contrariwise. 

h. The act is the same in all cases, whether the will exercises choice, 
or contrary choice, or no choice at all ; whether it chooses one thing, or 
another thing, or nothing, but chooses not to choose, which is to choose 
liberty ; and all in perfect self-control. In all these cases the act is the 
same ; it is an act of self-disposition. To have the authority and the end 
of action in one's self, that, is to have the power of self-disposition ; and 
self-disposition is freedom, and self-disposition is choice. 

i. Choice, therefore, has freedom in it, though freedom has not choice 
in it. Without freedom there could be no choice ; yet there could be 
freedom without choice, for freedom or liberty is an element that helps 
to make the will itself. There can therefore be liberty without choice, 
for liberty must first create the chooser, before there can be any choos- 
ing done. 

j. Liberty must first be, before will can be, and before choice can be. 
They are both constituted of liberty, and cannot be without it. So far 
forth are will and choice identical with liberty ; yet liberty exists before 



92 AUTOLOGY. 

them and creates them, while they contain liberty, either as being or 
act, and become and do something more than liberty is or does in itself. 
Such is the relation of the will and of liberty to choice. 

SECT. V. THE RELATION OF CHOICE TO CONTRARY CHOICE. 

1st. The act of choice disposes of the self, and is a responsible act; 
this is its nature. It is not so when we merely sensate or cognize, 
or crave or judge, or moralize or select ; hence these several acts,, 
though they conduct us along the process to choice, are yet not choices. 
And the faculties that perform them are different and distinct from 
each other, and from the faculty that chooses. It is the will that 
chooses. A choice is a distinct act, whose essence and characteristic 
are, that it disposes of the self; this is choice. 

2d. If the essence of choice is self-disposition, — if in every act of 
choice the will commits, binds over, and disposes of the self, making it 
responsible for the act of choice, — then clearly it is a free act in its 
nature, and incapable by its nature of being controlled or forced with- 
out destroying it as an act of choice. It must be free or not at all. 

3d. It must in all cases also have the power of contrary choice ; for 
the power of self-disposition in any one direction implies the same 
power of self-disposition in any other direction. For if an unlimited 
power of self-disposition does not exist, then no power of self-disposi- 
tion exists. If I cannot dispose of myself to an opposite thing, then 
my disposing of myself to a direct thing is not self-disposition, but 
being disposed of; therefore every self-disposition in any one direction 
implies the power of self-disposition in an opposite direction, and every 
choice in one direction implies the power of choice in an opposite 
direction. 

4th. Each disposition of the self in relation to one object of choice is 
at the same time a disposition of the self in relation to every object of 
choice. Every act of choice is made, not only in relation to the object 
chosen, but also in relation to its opposite ; that is, to the thing refused, 
and to every object of choice then before the mind. The same force of 
will is employed in relation to them all, and that, too, at the same time, 
and by the self-same act by which any one of these objects is chosen, in- 
stead of all the rest. The power of contrary choice, therefore, is 
identical with the power of direct choice, or the power to choose at all ; 
as the power to dispose of the self in one direction is identical with the 
power of self-disposition in any direction whatever, or of self-disposition 
at all. The power of self-disposition and the power of choice, as we 
have seen, are identical. So are choice and contrary choice, for both choice 
and contrary choice are equally and simply the power of self-disposition 



THE WILL. 93 



SECT. VI. THE RELATION OF LIBERTY AND NECESSITY TO THE 
EFFICIENT AND TO THE OCCASIONAL POWER OF CHOICE. 

a. These questions, as they relate to choice, belong to the two differ- 
ent departments of the power of choice, and the two different . kinds of 
power of choice, viz., what we have denominated the efficient, and the 
occasional power of choice, the former lying in the will, and the latter 
lying out of the will, and in the other faculties of the mind, which fac- 
ulties inhere in the will as their centre and substance, yet are wholly dis- 
tinct and different from it in their nature and action. 

b. When the affections, and the intellect, and the conscience present 
an object, and furnish an opportunity for choice, they act according to 
the necessary laws of their own nature ; they act as their own nature 
compels them to act, and in this respect and in relation to these things 
the power of choice is not a free, but a necessary power, and the exer- 
cise of it is not a free, but a necessary act. In procuring an object of 
choice, and in furnishing an opportunity for choice, the action is not free, 
but necessary ; for all these things are done, not by the will, but by the 
affections, the intellect, and the conscience ; and they have no power of 
free action, but act necessarily. 

c. But when the will acts, when it disposes of itself, which is the 
self, the me, the ego, to the object of choice, then the act is in its own 
nature a free act; it is peformed by the will exclusively, and is a- free, 
responsible act. 

The will alone has, and the will alone exercises', the efficient power of 
choice ; and it exercises it after the affections, the intellect, and the 
conscience have furnished it with an object and an opportunity of 
choice. In furnishing this opportunity and this object of choice to the 
will, the affections, the intellect, and the conscience act necessarily. 

But in taking the object of choice, in choosing it, the will acts freely 
in the exercise of full liberty ; for by the act of choice, by exerting the 
efficient power of choice, the will disposes of itself, and commits the 
whole self to the object of choice, and makes it its own. The act of 
choice, then, is a free act, and the will in choosing acts in liberty. The 
act of the other faculties, however, the affections, the intellect, and the 
conscience, by which the object of choice is procured for choice, but not 
chosen, and by which the opportunity for choice is afforded, but the act 
of choice is not performed, is not a free, but a necessary act. 

d. By the other faculties of the mind there is no free action, and no 
object of choice is chosen ; they only procure the object of choice that 
the will may afterwards choose or refuse it ; but when the will comes 

.actually to choose or refuse an object, when it puts forth the efficient 



94 AUTOLOGY. 

power of choice in really choosing or refusing an object, then is a free 
act performed ; then it disposes of the whole self, and exerts liberty, for 
self-disposition is the essence of liberty. Thus are liberty and neces- 
sity separated the one from the other. Thus are they shown to belong 
to different faculties of the mind, and to different acts performed ; and 
thus let them remain .forever distinct. This mingling and confounding 
of them has caused the confusion of a sufficient number of heads and 
theories already, and has done much harm to the cause of mental science, 
of theology, and of religion. 

SECT. VII. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SELECTING AND CHOOSING. 

a. This difference has already been clearly pointed out in Chapter 
III., Section I., on " What are the antecedents to choice." We here 
call attention to it again for the purpose of preparing the way for the 
question, "Why does the will choose one thing rather than another?" 

b. The act of selecting an object comes, as we have above seen, after 
sensating it, after affectioning it, after judging of it, and after moral- 
izing upon it. These several steps having been passed, then it is 
selected, and after that it is chosen. 

c. Now, this selecting is an act of the intellect, while choosing is an 
act of the will ; or rather selecting is done by the occasional, and choos- 
ing by the efficient, power of choice. In selecting, the intellect acts in- 
voluntarily, and weighs all facts, all pleasures and pains, all utilities and 
equities, and, considering all, selects the object which, on the whole, it 
judges the best to be presented to the will as, an object of choice. This 
selecting of an object as fittest for choice is purely an intellectual judg- 
ment, a judgment as to pleasure and pain, profit and loss, right and 
wrong, practicability or impracticability, and no more ; it is not a choice 
of the object, but merely a selecting of the object. It involves no re- 
sponsibility save as to the faithful use of the faculties : as to what the 
result of this judgment may be, if made according to the best intelli- 
gence, and the best use of the faculties employed, no responsibility is 
incurred by the act of selecting, for it is an involuntary and necessary 
act of the intellect, working "according to its Own laws. 

d. But not so with the will. When it chooses, it exercises liberty, 
which carries with it accountability, and, consequently, guilt or inno- 
cence. In choosing, the will disposes of the self to the object chosen. 
In selecting, on the contrary, the intellect only passes a judgment ac- 
cording to the laws of its own intelligence, for which it is not respon- 
sible, only so that it uses its best intelligence and ability in the act of 
selecting. But the will, by the act of choice, disposes of the self to 
the thing chosen. It commits and binds the whole man to it. Self- 



THE WILL. 95 

disposition is the essence of choice and the essence of liberty, while a 
merely intellectual judgment is the essence of the act of selecting the 
object of choice. 

SECT. VIII. WHY DOES THE WILL CHOOSE ONE THING RATHER 
THAN ANOTHER. 

a. This question involves an ambiguous assumption, against which, 
in the first instance, it is indispensable to be put on our guard, viz., 
"that choosing a thing is selecting a thing." 

The whole interest of this question, and the whole perplexity of mind 
that leads to asking it, lies precisely in this assumption, viz., that choos- 
ing is selecting. A right understanding of the act of choice would 
never have permitted the asking of such a question ; that is, it would 
never have seemed necessary to ask such a question, if the nature of 
the act of choice, as we have given it, had been understood and regarded. 

This is not, therefore, in reality, a question of choice, but of select- 
ing ; and as such, it has been answered in Chapter III., and also in the 
preceding section. 

b. But there is another ambiguous assumption lying hid under the 
question, " Why does the will choose one thing rather than another ?" 
and that is, that " it is a question of liberty ; " i. e., that the freedom of 
the will and the freedom of choice are involved in the reason why the 
will chooses one thing rather than another. But this is an error also, 
for the question of the will's freedom, or the freedom of choice, has no 
manner of connection with the reason why the will chooses one thing 
rather than another. The liberty of the will, as we have seen, and shall 
see, is a tiling dependent on other principles and causes, and is a mat- 
ter lying in the nature of the will, and in the nature of choice, and a 
thing settled and established long before the question, " Why does the 
will choose one thing rather than another?" ever arose, or could arise 
at all. The will's liberty is a fact involved and settled in the question, 
" What is choice ? " and " Why does the will choose at all ? " and is in 
no way dependent on the answer to the question now before us. 

c. We now take up this question, " Why does the will choose one 
thing rather than another?" and reply, that the reason why the will 
chooses at all, is to show its liberty, exert its power, authority, proprietor- 
ship, and sovereignty, and to dispose of itself autocroiically. And this, 
consequently, is the first reason why it chooses one thing rather than 
another. 

d. But further, if still the question be asked, " Is the will free, and, 
if free, why it chooses one thing rather than another,"* the reply is, 
the will, however it acts, has but one office, one thing to do, to wit : 



96 AUTOLOGY. 

to assert itself, and to dispose of itself; and this one thing- it always 
does, which way soever it may act or whatever it may choose ; and this 
self-disposition is always and everywhere liberty, and the essence of 
liberty. 

e. Now, in what direction soever the will may act, or whatever it 
may choose, it always does this : it disposes of itself, it shows its lib- 
erty. And if it does this, then no matter, so far as liberty is concerned, 
how it_ acts, or in what direction it acts, or what it chooses, or why it 
chooses one thing instead of another, or what cause induces, persuades, 
or inclines it to choose one thing rather than another r still, in all 
cases, and in every case, it is free ; free by the nature of its own act, 
by self-disposition, which it performs in every case, and for which, as 
we have seen, it has all the elements and forces in itself, independent of 
all the other faculties of the mind which inhere in it, and grow out of it. 
Whatever else may or may not be known, that the will is free, and as- 
serts, and acts, shows, exercises, and demonstrates its freedom in every 
act which it performs, is known; and this is the one great point disen- 
tangled from all others, and established beyond controversy on its own 
foundation. 

f. But as to what induces the will to act in one direction rather than 
another, or why it chooses one thing rather than another, or why it dis- 
poses of itself in one way rather than in another, or why it shows its 
liberty in one way rather than in another, — the reply is, that it is a matter 
of no consequence whatever, so far as its freedom is concerned ; and 
that so far as it may affect freedom, the will can afford to choose one 
thing rather than another, for any reason conceivable ; for its freedom 
would neither be abridged nor enhanced, nor the liberty of the will in 
any respect affected by any motive whatever. 

g. To choose a thing because it presents what is called the strongest 
motive, would in no way affect or abridge the liberty of the will, for its 
liberty does not depend on that. Liberty does not consist in having an 
alternative, but is secured by its own nature, and the nature of its own 
act. The act of the will is free, whether it has an alternative object of 
choice or not. 

h. Neither, should the will choose what is called the weaker motive, 
would it thereby show any more liberty, or enhance its liberty, for its 
liberty is already provided for and secured by its own nature, and can- 
not be diminished or enhanced by any object of choice whatever. The 
will acts just as freely when shut up to one object of choice, as when it 
has an infinite number of objects of choice. 

i. Neither does' the freedom of the will consist in having an alterna- 
tive in some other affection than the one at the time interested, nor in 
the conscience, nor anywhere else. No alternative can give liberty, if 



THE WILL. 97 

it does not exist before. For if the will should choose a direct object, 
or, instead of it, its alternative or opposite, the acts would both be of 
the same nature, and if the one had not liberty,the other could not have. 
Liberty consists, not in being able to take one of two objects, nor a 
third as alternative to either, or both, but in self-disposition, alike in 
each and every act which it performs. 

j. It is asked why the will chooses one thing rather than another : the 
reply is, that this question has no pertinence as to the matter of the lib- 
erty of the will. The will is just as free when it chooses one thing 
as when it chooses another, and just as free when it chooses for one 
reason as when it chooses for another. If the will chooses an object for 
the weakest motive, it shows no more liberty than when it chooses it 
for the strongest motive ; nor does it show any want of liberty whatever 
when it chooses an object for the strongest motive. The freedom of 
the will has no connection with any motive for choosing or refusing 
anything. f 

k. Away then with the false assumption contained in the question, 
" Why does the will choose one thing rather than another?" as if this 
question had anything to do with the will's freedom or necessity. It 
has nothing to do with either. The will's freedom consists in its power 
of self-disposition, and in nothing else, no matter what may be its 
choice, or what may be the nature or degree of its motive for choice. 
The liberty of the will lies in its having its own activity, its own intelli- 
gence, and its own law or end of action in itself, and in that in every 
act of choice in any direction, and for any. motive, strong or weak, it 
disposes of itself: this is liberty. Then let this " perturbed spirit " 
which distracts and bewilders with the ignisfatuus light of the question, 
" What makes the will choose one thing rather than another," assuming 
that this question has something to do with the will's liberty, be forever 
laid. We now lay it, with the denial that it has anything whatever to 
do with the will's liberty. And let it never be let loose nor suffered to 
go at large again to vex the brain of theologians or metaphysicians, 
feeble or strong. " Bequiescat in pace." 

I. The whole confusion which this question, " Why does the will 
choose one thing rather than another," makes, arises out of confounding 
the efficient power of choice with the occasional power of choice ; i. e., 
the act of the will in choosing, which is free, with the acts of the other 
faculties of the mind in selecting, which are not free. 

•m. We say, then, positively, that when the will commits itself to one 
thing instead of another, it is devoutly to be hoped that it does so for 
some sensible reason, since it neither increases nor diminishes its freedom 
thereby : and since also the object of choice has already been selected 
and decided upon by the other faculties, whose office it is to do so. 
13 



98 AUTOLOGY. 

n. The object of choice has already run the gantlel of all the 
fatuities of the mind, and has been passed upon by them all, and lias at 
last been selected as the best and littest object of choice : surely there 
is every reason which the mind can give why the will should choose 
that object which the other faculties have selected. And the will dues 
choose it, and the reason why the will dues choose it is, that it has 
thus already been passed upon and selected by the other faculties of the 
mind. The other i'aeulties, the affections, the reason, and the conscience, 
have acted involuntarily, and have exercised themselves in investigating 
and balancing pleasure and pain, profit and loss, right and wrong, and 
have been weighed down by the strongest motive, greatest interest, or 
highest worth, and have decided accordingly. But the will, in chousing 
and disposing of itself' to this object so selected, and for the same rea- 
son, shows its liberty in the nature of its own act of self-disposition, 
while it takes the object which the other faculties have selected as the 
best to be chosen. And thus we come to the end of this matter, and 
to the reason why the will chooses one thing rather than another, and 
why the will shows its liberty in one way rather than another, or in 
choosing one thing rather than another. It is because all the faculties 
have already, in their best reason, judgment, and preference, decided 
that that is the best object of choice. Therefore the will shows its lib- 
erty and disposes of itself by taking that object of choice. 

o. The other faculties of the mind, in acting with regard to the object 
of choice, act not freely, but according to the laws of their own na- 
ture, which is appetitive, and rational, and ethical, and not free ; and 
hence that object is selected, not by choice, but by appetitive, pruden- 
tial, testhetical, or ethical affinity, or mere rational calculation and con- 
clusion, all of which by their own nature act involuntarily and without 
liberty. But when all this is done, then the will disposes of the self 
to that object by a free act, showing its liberty in the act of disposing 
of the self to it, and in thus choosing and appropriating it, and in com- 
mitting the self to it. Such is the act of choice, and such is the free- 
dom of the will, and such is the reason why the will chooses one thing 
rather than another. 

p. Let it be remembered that when the question is asked, " Why 
does the will choose one thing rather than another?" there is an illu- 
sion upon the mind. The real question intended to be asked is this: 
"Why does the mind select one thing rather than another ?'' it is not 
a question of choosing, but of selecting ; not of the will, but of the 
other faculties. The answer, then, is, the mind selects one thing 
rather than another because the affections, reason, and conscience, any 
one or all of them, decide that such an object is the best to be se- 
lected. But the will disposes of the self to that object for the same 



THE WILL. 99 

reason that it would dispose of itself to any other object ; that is, for 
the sake of disposing of itself, and of showing- its liberty ; and it could 
show liberty just as effectually, and dispose of the self just as effect- 
ually, by choosing any other object as by choosing the one thus se- 
lected for it. Yet it is in harmony with the mental economy that the 
will show liberty aud self-disposition in the way that the reason, con- 
science, and heart judge best, and not in any other way. 

SECT. IX. CAN ANY POWER, GOOD OR BAD, CONTROL THE WILL 
INEVITABLY, WITHOUT DESTROYING ITS LIBERTY ? 

a. This brings up the old controversy of God and Satan, found in the 
Book of Job, and the old question of irresistible grace, immediately and 
clearly before us. The reply is, that it is not a question of liberty, but 
a question of power, that is here brought before us : it refers not to the 
will, which is the efficient power of choice, but to the affections, reason, 
and conscience, which are the occasional power of choice. With this 
premised, the matter will be placed in its true light when it is asked, 

."Can God inevitably convert a soul if he wishes to? or, is the soul 
able to prevent God from so doing?" The reply is, God can convert 
a soul if he sees fit to do so. To illustrate : — 

b. Here is a jury trial. On the one side is an able, learned, and elo- 
quent lawyer, having in his favor all the law, all the facts, and all the 
arguments and the persuasions, and all the inducements, with which to 
address the jury; and on the other side there is a weak and incompetent 
lawyer, with a bad cause, and with all the facts, and all the arguments, 
and all the law, right, justice, mercy, and faith of the case against him. 
Which, with an ordinary jury, would be likely to win ? We should say 
that with any ordinary jury of twelve men, citizens and neighbors, the 
side of the case first described would inevitably win, because that side 
was in every sense of the word the stronger side. 

c. We should see also that this was not a case of liberty, but a case 
of strength purely, and that the jury, in being convinced and persuaded 
to give verdict for the party first described, exerted and exercised their 
full liberty, unimpaired, as much as they would if they had cast their 
verdict the other way. So, when God seeks to convert a soul, and the 
soul opposes itself, God has the talent, the learning, the argument, the 
eloquence, the truth, the right, all on his side. The soul is weak in 
talent, wrong in its cause, and all the facts, equities, interests, and per- 
suasions are against it. 

Must not God, then, inevitably carry his point, and persuade the soul 
to repentance ? God has not only extraordinary intellectual and moral 
power, but he has also his own Holy Spirit giving him spiritual power, 



100 AUTOLOGY. 

which man lias not and cannot have, with which to point his argu- 
ments and inspire his persuasion. God must, therefore, inevitably carry 
his cause against the mere human power of the soul, in persuading it to 
repent, and in converting it to a knowledge of the truth. Now, obvi- 
ously, this is not a question of liberty, but of talent, not of liberty, but of 
persuasiveness, where the soul has just the same liberty that God lias, 
and exercises it to the last ; but the fact is, God is too intellectual, too 
eloquent, too persuasive, too talented for the soul, and hence can gain 
his cause over the soul, and carry his point, and inevitably convert the 
soul unto himself; and the soul, in yielding to the arguments of God and 
the persuasiveness of God, by which it qpnsents to be converted, exercises 
just as much freedom as it would in yielding to the arguments of Satan, 
or to its own arguments and persuasions in refusing to be converted to 
God; and thus is this question of irresistible grace settled as a question 
of comparative talent, eloquence, .persuasiveness, and ability between 
God and the soul, and not at all as a question of liberty. 

d. This is not a question whether liberty can be compelled without 
ceasing to be liberty, but it is a question as to who has the greater in- 
fluence, talent, persuasion, skill, and power, as an advocate, to win the 
soul, God or man, God or Satan; and the answer is, therefore, plain that 
God can inevitably carry his point, and convert a soul in spite of itself, 
and in spite of Satan, if he is of a mind to do so ; and that, not by for- 
cing the soul's liberty and destroying it, but by the exercise of greater 
talent and wanner love, more knowledge, tact, skill, and argument in 
persuading and saving souls, than man or Satan can wield in destroying 
them. The simple fact is, that God is the most talented, the most lov- 
ing, most influential, most winning, and has the best cause, and there- 
fore He can inevitably master Satan, and the soul itself in the matter 
of persuading it to life. God can persuade to life more effectually than 
the soul and Satan can persuade to death, and when he will, he can save a 
soul in spite of them. When the nature of God's grace is spoken of, it 
may truly be said that it is resistible, or evitable ; but when the amount- 
of God's grace is spoken of, then is it truly irresistible. 

e. So also when liberty is spoken of, it cannot in its own nature be 
forced, and in its own nature it can resist anything, God, man, devil, or 
any blind force of brute or nature. Liberty is in its nature infinite and 
absolute, and no God, no man, no devil can force it. They may bind the 
man, or destroy him, but they cannot force his liberty. Yet though 
liberty cannot be forced, it can be persuaded, and an almighty persuasion 
is just as inevitable as an almighty force. God can, therefore, as a 
question of comparative persuasive power, inevitably convert a soul. 

Let it not be forgotten that this is a question of power, and not of 
liberty; and it is the confounding of these two questions which has made 



THE WILL. 101 

the dispute between Calvinists and Arminians. If a fleet race-horse and 
an ox are made competitors in a race, the horse will inevitably beat the 
ox, and the contest will be one of power and speed, and not one of liberty. 
The power of the horse to beat the ox will certainly be resistible in its 
nature, but not in its degree or amount. The ox, if goaded on, will resist 
the speed of the horse to his utmost; but the horse will beat him, and 
that by the irresistibleness of the amount of speed, which the ox can 
never ultimately resist, try he ever so hard and ever so long ; the horse 
will inevitably beat him in the end. So is the grace of God irresistible 
in amount, though not in its nature ; and God will always and inevitably 
win by the amount of his grace, whenever he chooses to do so, and no 
soul can prevent or ultimately resist him. 

God's love, in its nature, is resistible ; the Holy Spirit, in its nature, is 
resistible, and may be grieved ; but God's love and Spirit, in their 
amount, when he chooses to wield them, can always persuade any soul 
to repentance, and in this way are irresistible. Grace is resistible • in 
nature, but not in amount, when God pleases to employ it. God can 
never force human liberty, but he can, by his almighty persuasiveness 
and love, inevitably win to life any soul which he chooses so to win ; and 
the contest between God and the sinner, when God seeks to convert 
him, is not one of liberty against force, but of moral power against moral 
power, or of persuasiveness against persuasiveness. 

SECT. X. HAVE BRUTES A WILL ? 

a. This question is treated at length in Part III., in connection with 
the question of the brute intellect ; and for the sake of unity in the 
discussion, it is now chiefly deferred to that place. Yet it may be said, 
in brief, that brutes have not a will, but only a self. This may be shown 
by the fact, well known, that brutes never exercise freedom or deliberate 
choice, but always act appetitively, without reflection, and from blind 
impulse and necessity. 

b. The human will we have seen, in Chapter VI., on the " Vital and 
Dj'namical Construction of the Will," to be composed of five elements ; 
viz., essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, essen- 
tial law, and essential liberty ; the last three produced by combining the 
first two, and all combining in one will. 

c. In the brute structure these two primordial elements — essential 
activity and essential intelligence, never develop beyond their first com- 
bination, by which they produce simply a self; while in man the de- 
velopment goes on from self, or individuality, to law and liberty, and 
will, before it ceases. In the brute the primordial elements have clearly 
no power at 'all to develop themselves beyond the simple self produced 



102 AUTOLOGY. 

by their first combination ; as a fact, they never did so develop them- 
selves 

d. This proves not only that the brute has no will, as it is without 
the elements of self-law and liberty, but that the brute is of entirely a 
different nature from man, different in degree not only, but in kind. The 
essential activity of the brute and the essential intelligence of the brute 
must be totally different from the corresponding elements in man, from' 
the fact that they do not, they never did, and never can, develop them- 
selves beyond a mere self, constituted by their first and only combination. 
There is no evidence that these elements ever have produced either self- 
law, or liberty, or will, as man's primordial elements always do; the 
brute and the human are consequently totally distinct. 

SECT. XI. WILL-POWER. 

a. Will-power is the power of free cause. It is the power to turn 
the energies of the mind to any given end, and to achieve from free 
cause what in all other departments of the mind is done from necessary 
cause. Will-power is more than negative liberty, or mere opportunity. 
It is the power of employing force at will, and that for an end out of 
the will itself, and out of the mind itself. By free choice of the will 
man chooses the thing to be done, and commands the forces under its 
control to perform it. The peculiarity of will-power is that it is the 
power to forbear as well as to do. It is the exercise of liberty, and is 
confined to that exercise. , It is not necessary to the exercise of liberty 
that it be able to do the thing which it chooses ; its liberty is complete 
when it actually exercises choice, and stops there. The power of 
choice, then, and the power of liberty are identical, and are the peculiar 
power of the will. 

b. But will-power manifests itself in originating movements in those 
forces of nature which come under its control. It can set in operation the 
affections, the intellect, the conscience, the bodily organs, the feet and 
hands, and the forces of nature, as wind and water, steam and elec- 
tricity. Particularly in cultivating the earth, in navigating the rivers and 
oceans, in roads and brid'ges, engines and machines, — in all this, will- 
power comes out, originating movements and superinducing processes 
upon the existing order of things, which would otherwise not have ex- 
isted. Will-power uses the mariner's compass and guides the ship to a des- 
tined port, irrespective of the usual operations of nature, yet employing 
nature's forces and superintending and compelling them to its own 
purpose. 

c. Thus it is the office and nature of will-power to begin movements, 
and combine forces, and command them, as servants and soldiers, to do 



THE WILL. 103 

its bidding. Thus said the centurion to Christ, " Speak the word and 
my servant " (lying on a distant bed of sickness) " shall be healed, for I, 
also, am a man set under authority ; I say to one, go, and he goeth, 
and to another come, and he cometh; " so can you also command nature's 
forces, for they are your servants, and they shall do your bidding. This 
is the peculiar nature of will-power ; it is free power; it can command and 
control other powers, and originate new movements and new opera- 
tions in nature, which nature herself never could have set in motion by 
her own action. 

d. Thus God began man and nature, which had no being before; and 
thus man in nature begins the mechanical arts, which had no being before, 
and which nature had no power to begin. Thus all through nature we 
find that God has made successive beginnings by will-power, which 
nature herself could not give, and thus all through human history has 
man by will-power made new beginnings in inventions and arts, which 
nature never could have begun. This is will-power: it can begin things, 
and can control the forces of nature to free and chosen ends. 

e. The difference between the will-power of God -and the will-power 
of man is this : God can by mere force of will give being where it did 
not exist before ; he can begin existence itself; whereas man by his will 
can only choose to begin a being, but cannot actually cause and produce 
it. Man's effective power is confined to changing and controlling 
beings and forces already existing. He can inaugurate new movements 
and new combinations, but cannot begin a new existence ; that is the 
prerogative of God alone ; to begin a new being is to create, and God 
alone can create. A miracle may be either the creation of a new being 
or force, or a new combination and use of old forces. This last is, how- 
ever, a miracle only in a comparative sense, and for the time being. When 
man comes to make such combinations, they cease to be miracles. 
A true miracle is creative in its nature ; to work a miracle is to create. 

SECT. XII. CONCLUSION. 

a. We have now a will perfect in itself ; yet though a perfect will, it 
is nothing more. 

6. It is not a mind ; it has neither affections, intellect, nor conscience ;. 
it is only the will, the centre, essence, or substance of the mind, contain- 
ing all the germs and elements of a complete personality, but as yet un- 
developed. It is not as yet a person, it is only a will ; it is more 
than a mere self, but less than a complete person. It stands alone in 
its central solitude, yet to receive the faculties of a perfect manhood. 
It is the essence or substance of the mind, in which all the other fac- 



104 AUT0L0GY. 

ulties are to inhere, and out of which they spring-. It is a live, efficient, 
intelligent, free power, nothing more. 

c. In the first instance, it needs some faculties to give it interest in 
an external world. Secondly, it needs some faculty by which it can 
come into contact with the external world, and cognize the objects which 
it there finds. And thirdly, it needs a law of action over it, as a ride 
of moral duty for all its actions in the external world. These things 
will be found to be, 1st, The Affections ; 2d, The Intellect with the Sense ; 
and 3d, The Conscience. These being supplied, it will become a com- 
plete personality, a complete mind, a perfect man, the intelligent and 
responsible subject of God's government, prepared for action, capable 
of right and wrong, of holiness and uuholiness, of reward and penalty, 
of happiness or of woe. 

d. We are now ready to enter upon the investigation of these faculties 
of the mind. They constitute, as we have already seen, the occasional or 
objective power of choice, while the will, as we have just shown, consti- 
tutes the efficient or subjective power of choice. They constitute the 
qualities of the mind, as the will is its substance ; and in investigating 
them, and in finding their places and functions in the economy of the 
mind, we shall see how all these faculties, and all their knowledge, 
spring from the elements of the will already found, viz., its essential 
activity and essential intelligence, — the two great poles of all mental 
operations, whether of acting or knowing — and that the mind., when 
complete, is a unit in being and in action. 



PART II. 
THE AFFECTIONS. 

THE OCCASIONAL POWER OF CHOICE. — THE EMPIRE 
OF THE WILL. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE NATURE OF THE AFFECTIONS AND THEIR RELATION 
TO THE WILL. 

SECT. I. THE AFFECTIONS BELONG TO THE OCCASIONAL POWEE 
OF CHOICE. 

a. We have already seen that the will is the substance of the mind, 
and that as such it is a complete self, holding the faculties of the mind 
in inherence ; that the will is a self-efficient and free agent, capable of 
originating and directing its own action, and determining it to a known 
and intelligent end. 

b. But as yet that end can only be the self, as opposed to everything 
else ; as yet, it is' only a self. It has a spring to self-action in the essen- 
tial activity, a law or end of action for that activity in the individuality, 
giving the capability of self-action. It has the liberty of self-action 
which the union of the law of individuality with the essential activity 
gives. And it has the intelligence which the consciousness gives, relat- 
ing to the self, and its acts, and such facts as are involved in giving this 
knowledge. And this is all. It is thus a complete agent ; a self; hav- 
ing the efficient power of choice, capable of choosing from its own ac- 
tivity, and law, and liberty ; and is therefore independent. 

c. But it must be remembered this is only the efficient,, it is not the 
occasional power of choice. The will as yet stands alone. It knows 
nothing of the external world, save that it is an undefined, limitless ob- 
jectivity. It has no capability of knowing any more about it. It has 
only the capability of knowing itself. It has as yet no faculty by which 

14 105 



106 AUTOLOGY. 

it can know external phenomena, in their distinctions and varieties ; in- 
deed, it has as yet no primary ideas with which to know or comprehend 
them. It is capable of knowing' primary facts which lie within itself, 
and does know them, but not external facts, nor primary ideas, nor prin- 
ciples. 

d. Some faculty is needed by which it can know primary ideas, and 
by which it can cognize the content and material of the outer world ; and 
some susceptibility is also needed, by which it can take an interest in 
an outer world, and which may become objects of choice to the will ; 
and some rule of right must be supplied and placed over the will, by 
which it shall govern its acts of choice, when it comes into the field of 
its operation. And when these are possessed, it will have the occa- 
sional power of choice. 

e. The occasional power of choice, as distinguished from the efficient 
power of choice, is that which furnishes the occasions for choice, or the 
conditions under which choice is possible, and lies out of the will, yet 
within the person ; while the efficient power of choice lies within the 
will, and gives the actual power of choosing, when the occasion is af- 
forded.. More fully, the occasional power of choice consists of the in- 
tellect, the affections, and the conscience within the person, and the ex- 
ternal world lying outside of the man altogether. 

/. With this last we have to do only incidentally. Our attention is 
confined to the mind, and what composes it. Thus possessing both the 
efficient and the occasional power of choice, the will is fully able to put 
forth a complete act of choice. We now pass out of the will as centre 
and substance of the mind, and come to the examination of the faculties 
or the qualities of the mind. 

g. We must have some additional faculty for giving a knowledge of 
the external world ; for the essential intelligence that enters into the 
composition of the will cannot look out upon the external world and 
know it, for it has neither the power of perceiving phenomena nor of 
comprehending ideas. 

h. We must have something, some properties or affections, that will 
give us an interest in the external world, and be objects of choice, and 
a field of action to the will ; for the essential activity which enters into 
the construction of the will is neither a susceptibility for any specific 
interest in an outer world, nor any object of choice to the will ; it is 
only a component of the will. 

i. So also must we have a moral law over the will ; for the essential 
individuality is simply law in the will as part of its being, giving it an 
end of action, and consequently liberty in itself, and is not at all a moral 
law over the will, already complete as guide for its choices in the ex- 
ternal world. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 107 

j. All these are, that the will may be. They are not qualities of a 
will, but elements of its being 1 . They give it being and the efficient 
power of choice. They do not afford the occasional power and actuality 
of choice. There is need of a capability of knowing and feeling an 
interest in the objects of choice, and of a law to direct the will in the 
acts of choice, over and above the primary elements. 

k. The will, in short, must have a law of action, and a field of ac- 
tion, outside of itself, and also a faculty for knowing the external world. 
And these will have an inherence in itself, as a conscious unity, yet 
will be out of itself. 

I. The power of choice thus consists of the efficient power and the 
occasional power. The efficient power lies in the will or substance of 
the mind. The occasional power lies in two things; first, in the facul- 
ties or qualities of the mind which lie out of the will, and are no part 
of . it, yet inhere in it, and are recognized by the self-consciousness, 
and thus come within the unity of the same person ; and second in the 
external objects and opportunities of choice. 

in. And here we may re-state the difference between a self and a will, 
and between a will and a person. A self is composed of essential ac- 
tivity and essential consciousness. A will combines with these essen- 
tial self, law, and liberty, giving it the efficient power of choice. A 
person is a complete mind, having self and will united, or a self com- 
pleted into a will, as its centre or substance, giving rt the efficient power 
of choice, and then adding the affections, and the intellect, and the 
conscience, as the faculties or qualities of the mind, giving it also the 
occasional power of choice. 

n. Thus self, will, and person are different, yet in man all consolidate 
into one. The self and will consolidate to form the substance of the 
mind. The affections, the intellect, and the conscience are the qualities 
of that substance. The person is made up of the self, will, affections, 
intellect, and conscience, or of the will and the qualities that inhere 
in it. 

o. The efficient power of choice, then, lies in the will ; the occasional 
power of choice lies out of the will, and in the affections, intellect, con- 
science, and the external world. The existence and presence of external 
things as subjects of cognition and of subjective interest, are requisite, 
of course, to the fact and the exercise of the occasional power of choice ; 
but these lie out of the person altogether, and are not, therefore, the 
subject of .our present inquiry. 

p. In entering upon the world of the affections, it must be observed 
that we pass entirely out of the dominion of liberty and free agency, 
and come into that of necessity and of involuntary powers. We leave the 
will and its freedom behind, and go out into the realm of the affections, 



108 AUTOLOGY. 

the intellect, and the conscience, where necessity reigns supreme over 
all. The will alone has freedom. The affections, the intellect, and the 
conscience act necessarily and according- to the laws of their own 
mechanism. And while the will, as the efficient power of choice, is 
free, and chooses freely, they, as the occasional power of choice, are not 
free, and act necessarily. 

q. And just here is the great difficulty with some authors on this 
subject ; a failure to keep distinct these two powers of choice — the 
efficient and the occasional ; the efficient being in the will, and free ; 
the occasional being in the other faculties, and not free ; the will alone 
having liberty and the efficient power of choice ; the affections, t lie 
intellect, and the conscience having the occasional power of choice, and 
having no liberty, but acting always necessarily and according to the 
laws of their own natures. These are called the occasional power of 
choice, because they furnish the opportunities and the objects for 
choice. 

r. The questions of liberty and necessity find their limits and demar- 
cations here. If by choice is meant that which the will does, it is free. 
If by choice is meant what the other faculties do, it is not free. 

s. The part which the affections and the intellect do, in furnishing 
the objects and the opportunities of choice, is done necessarily according 
to affectional, appetitive, rational, and ethical laws. 

/. The part which the will does in disposing of the self to the object 
of choice is freely done in the exercise of its own free power, and is the 
sole reponsible act of the mind ; that is, it is the act alone which com- 
mits and binds over the self to its consequences, as innocent or guilty, 
right or wrong. 

u. An act of the affections in their spontaneous and involuntary 
movement does not imply guilt or innocence, neither does an act of the 
intellect, nor of the conscience ; for they are not free. But the will is 
free, and its acts are therefore right or wrong, and it is responsible. 

v. Now, the affections are the empire of the will, and we are thus 
logically brought to this next department of the mind. 

The will as yet has no empire ; it has its authority as executive, but 
as yet it has no subjects, no people, no empire to govern, or, properly, 
no objects of choice to choose. The affections are the subjects of the 
will's government, the objects of the will's choices. 

w. Chronologically, in the mind's actual operations, the intellect 
would seem to come first, but logically, in building up the mind as a 
structure, the affections are the first in order. 

The office of the intellect is to gather knowledge. The interest to do 
this, and the interest in it after it is done, lies in the affections, or 
susceptibilities. Under their impulse the knowledge of facts and prin- 



THE AFFECTIONS. . 109 

ciples is gained, and thrown back upon them, and they, thus affected, 
become the objects of choice to the will. There would be no interest to 
know anything, no interest in anything known, but for the affections, 
and, of course, nothing for the will to choose or refuse. 

SECT. II. THE AFFECTIONS THE EMPIRE OF THE WILL. 

o. It must here be observed, that the affections are not the motive 
power to choice, lying back of the will ; nor the efficient power of 
choice, lying in the will ; nor are they the moral law over the will, but 
they are the objects of choice to the will. 

b. The will never chooses directly a thing which the intellect per- 
ceives as an external object, but it chooses or refuses the affection 
which the perceived object awakens. The object is taken or refused 
only as it is adapted to gratify the affection or not. The will has noth- 
ing directly to do with out-door or external objects. The affections are 
the subjects of its choices, and compose the empire of its dominion. 

c. And that this relation of the affections to the will may be fully 
understood, we shall first examine them as a whole, constituting our 
susceptible nature ; and secondly, separate them into classes and in- 
dividuals, that the whole empire, the several provinces, and the partic- 
ular subjects of the will, as well as its executive acts of choice and self- 
disposition, may fully appear. 

d. We have seen that the will, or self, has, as its constituent elements, 
essential activity, essential intelligence, essential individuality, essential 
law, essential liberty ; constituting not only a complete self, but a 
complete will. But this self, or will, takes on other properties, by which 
it is enlarged, and is perfected into a person. 

e. In the first instance, it takes on an affectional or susceptible nature, 
and this nature springs out of the essential self, and particularly out of 
the first of the two primordial elements of the self and the mind, viz., 
essential activity, or life. 

/. We shall hereafter see that the intellect springs from the other 
essential element of the self, or mind, viz., essential intelligence ; and 
that the conscience, like the will, is composed of them both ; yet not 
both or either directly, but from both after they have become, the one 
affection, and the other intellect. 

g. Thus will is a compound of essential activity and essential intel- 
ligence combined and recombined with their successive products until it 
is complete. 

h. The affections are an outgrowth of the essential activity alone. 
When healthy and natural, they are a growth on the will. When 
unhealthy, they are a swelling, or fungus. 



110 . AUTOLOGY. 

i. The intellect is an outgrowth of the essential intelligence, produced 
until it becomes reason and the senses. 

j. The conscience is an affection growing out of all the affections, and 
an intelligence, or a rational law, growing out of the whole intellect com- 
bined in one chief and supreme ethical judge over the whole man ; this 
is the last and highest faculty of the mind. 

k. All these growths and developments, or deposits upon the will, 
enlarge and perfect it into a person, a complete rational soul, which in 
a body is perfected manhood. 

I. The first growth upon the outside of the will, of which the will is 
a centre, stock, body, substance, or essence, is that of the affections. 

m. Springing from the central life, the affections blossom out on the 
surface of the will as beautiful 'and varied flowers ; or they enlarge and 
swell into soft and sensitive protuberances ; or they deposit themselves 
as spirited and sparkling secretions of sentiment ; or they enwrap the 
will as a warm, elastic, circumambient atmosphere, shooting forth, as 
fervent and glowing rays of light and heat, in every direction ; yet 
inhering perpetually in the will, and convolving around it. 

n. The whole mind, as to the relations of its faculties, may be fitly 
compared to a volcanic mountain. 

o. The deep, central, self-sustained, and eternal fires, in the burning 
centre, stand for the will. 

p. The hot and glowing lava, that oozes from crevices, or flows over 
the top and rolls down over the cone-like sides, and settles in pools, or 
hardens into stone, represent the affections in all their various states, 
constituents, and characters. 

q. The bright and fiery flame, darting upward and piercing the 
heavens, represents the intellect. 

r. While a rainbow formed in the heavens above, and from its distil- 
ling dews, yet springing from the heat of the lava and the light of the 
flame below, and arching from side to side over the whole, would fitly 
represent the conscience. 

s. In the light of these relations, we come now to consider the facul- 
ties of the mind. Having completed our investigation and analysis of 
the central fire of the will, we now pass out, and take first the lava of 
the affections, lying around and adhering to the external surface of the 
volcanic mountain. 

Then shall we afterwards take up the heaven-piercing flame of the in- 
tellect ; and last of- all, the rainbow arch of the' conscience in the sky 
above it. * 

t. Now, by the deposit, the taking on and outgrowth of affections, 
the self or will becomes susceptible, capable of being acted upon from 
without, and capable of taking an interest in the things cognized by the 



THE AFFECTIONS. ' 111 

intellect. The affections are both susceptible and emotive, passive and 
impulsive. They take in impressions, and send out activity. 

u. The self or will is no more a mere unsusceptible actor, but a sym- 
pathizer. It has become, by these outgrowths of affections, capable of 
pleasure and pain, of appreciating advantage and of deprecating dis- 
advantage. By the affections alone we are rendered impressible by 
objects without, and by our own mental movements within, and capable 
of either well-being or ill-being. 

v. They grow, for good or evil, upon the self or will, by its remaining 
a long time in one position. As habits of stooping make us crooked, 
as a pressure against the side of a tree or plant will make it bend and 
grow out on the opposite side, or as the sting of an insect or the gnaw- 
ing of a worm may make an apple or a tree take on a diseased growth, 
so evil or diseased affections may be produced on the self or will. 

w. These affections, outgrowths, or ingrowths, or excrescences on 
the self or will, and inhering in it, are indefinite in their number, yet 
strictly individual and sui generis in their characters, and utterly antag- 
onistic in their nature to each other, each having a craving peculiar to 
itself, and an aversion to that which would gratify any other. No one 
affection craves the object which is craved by another for its own 
sake, or for what it is in itself, though each may seem to impel to the 
gratification of another for the sake of an ultimate gratification to 
itself. 

x. We may feel covetousness or hate, ambition or benevolence ; yet 
neither of these can ever be gratified by that which is specifically calcu- 
lated to gratify another affection. Gain will not gratify revenge, nor 
will benevolence gratify ambition ; though we may gratify covetousness 
for the sake of ultimate revenge, and benevolence for the ends of am- 
bition. f 

y. William Tell chose to shoot, an arrow at the apple on the head of 
his child. He did not crave or desire that act, but he did desire the 
safety of himself and the well-being of his child, and chose that act as 
the best way, under the circumstances, to secure that end. 

z. Yet each affection ever preserves its own individuality and antag- 
onism to each and to all other affections. Nor must the action of the 
affections be confounded with the acts of the will, either in fact or in 
character. The affections act spontaneously and appetitively ; they 
have a craving for the objects adapted to their gratification, and an 
aversion for that which is not. They do not act deliberatively, and 
choosingly, and freely, but cravingly. They spring forth on coming in 
contact with their objects, and impel to their attainment, regardless of 
time, place, or consequences. Their action, therefore, is not a choice, 
but a desire ; it is not an executive decision, but a mere demand of ap- 



112 AUTOLOGY. 

petite. They have no capabilities of different or opposite ends, and 
cannot choose. 

aa. They are all mono-active; they can act only in one direction, and 
in that they are involuntary and spontaneous. As air rushes to a vacuum, 
as water seeks its level, as all bodies tend to the centre' of gravitation, 
as appetite seeks its food, thirst its drink, and the lungs air, so the affec- 
tions move towards their appropriate objects without reason, and with- 
out choice between two objects. 

bb. They know no duality, no variety ; are each capable of deriving 
gratification from a certain object, and from no other. The capability 
of enjoying wealth could not be gratified by the capability of enjoying 
power, and cannot desire it, except for the sake of gaining wealth. The 
power of choosing is utterly inconceivable as belonging to an affection, 
and if conceivable, utterly useless to any affection. 

cc. The affections have as little capability of enjoying or choosing a 
thing to which they are not naturally inclined, or constitutionally adapt- 
ed, as a plant has of refusing to derive its nutriment from the earth, or 
air, and of maintaining its existence on animal food, or on vegetable 
diet, by mastication, deglutition, and digestion, as do men and animals. 
They have but a sole activity ; they may desire, crave, burn, enjoy, or 
suffer, but cannot choose. To crave an object is one thing, to choose 
it is another. 

dd. Nor have the affections in themselves, as capabilities or as acts, 
any character whatever as right or wrong. They may be beneficial or 
injurious, hateful or lovely, agreeable or disagreeable, but they have not 
in themselves the qualities of right and wrong, or praise worthiness and 
blameworthiness. 

ee. They may indeed become right or wrong, as they are cherished 
or subdued, adopted or discountenanced, approved or condemned, by 
the will under the law of the conscience. Their possessor may become 
guilty of their existence, and hurtfulness, and unlikeness to God, as 
he permits, indulges, or fails to subdue them. 

ff. They may become things chosen by their possessor, and thus 
add actual good to their own native goodness, or guilt to their offen- 
siveness and injuriousness, according to either their normal or perverted 
state; but in themselves they have no power of choice, and no moral 
character. They can only crave and feel aversion, and that involuntarily ; 
and on receiving the object craved, or on losing it, they feel pleasure 
or pain respectively ; and these are involuntary, and their only capabilities 
or functions. 

gg. Without these affections we should be incapable of any interest 
or activity,, with regard to external things or internal things. The 
intellect might perceive, but if that perception were all, if it were not 



THE AFFECTIONS. 113 

thrown back upon a susceptible property within, no interest would be 
awakened, and no action would ensue. 

hh. The affections, then, are those properties of the mind by which it 
is rendered susceptible of impressions from without, and from the action 
of its own faculties within ; and they correspond and answer to all our 
relations to the world without and the world within us. 

it. The intellect grasps an object, and throws it back upon the affec- 
tions ; they crave and enjoy it, or loathe and reject it, and in either case 
do not choose, nor incur responsibility, but simply experience involuntary 
action, and in that state are the objects of choice or of refusal to the will. 

jj. And the will either chooses some one or more of them, and 
rejects others, or rejects them all, as we shall hereafter see. 

hh. Thus much we have spoken of the affections in general; we 
now come to a classifying and individualizing of them. We have 
given the generic and general term "affections" to the susceptible por- 
tion of man's nature. And by the term affections we mean not the 
state or states of the susceptibilities, but the susceptibilities themselves — 
the several capabilities of susceptibility. 

II. The states of the susceptibilities we indicate by the terms desire, 
emotion, craving, aversion, disgust, pleasure ; but we give the name of 
" affections " to the susceptibilities themselves, that is, to our capability 
of sensibility. 

mm. This term "affections," however, given to our sensitive nature, is 
not sufficiently definite to indicate all the phenomena of sensibility or 
susceptibility. So numerous and diversified are their manifestations, 
that we cease to regard them as an undivided whole, but as made up 
of distinct and separate affections, each capable of a different and pecu- 
liar affectionateness. 

nn. We come to know and discriminate these affections by first ob- 
serving their states. Instinct, emotion, desire, may be the state of every 
affection, and the thing thus desired is in each particular case so distinct, 
and of so fixed a character, that we are warranted in assigning to the 
affection itself, as a natural capability of the mind, a distinct- name, 
significant of its property as an original power or conformation of our 
susceptibilities ; as, for instance, the desire of knowledge, and power, 
gain, esteem, and others. 

oo. The desire for each of these is distinct from the others, and is 
the state of the affection, whose office it is by nature to desire such an 
object. The affections, therefore, are those distinct susceptibilities of 
our nature which are capable of instinct, emotion, desire, &c, for 
specific objects. 

pp. The affections, it must be observed, have their legitimate objects, 
and states, offices and qualities, and also illegitimate ones. They have a 
15 



]14 AUTOLOGY. 

natural office, and may be perverted to an unnatural ope. The original 
and intended use of their action is good, and tends to happiness. The 
perverted action and state of the affections are evil, and tend to mis- 
chief. Either is right or wrong only when chosen by the will. 

qq. We now come to the classification of the affections, and shall 
adopt such a method as will be in accordance with natural distinctions, 
and serve the purposes of clearness and the conveniences of discus- 
sion. This classification should not be so minute as to embarrass, nOr 
so general as to be indefinite, but so made as to bring before the mind 
the whole population of the will's empire, over which it has authority, 
and each individual of which it chooses or refuses, as the case may be, 
in the exercise of its own liberty and authority. The following clas- 
sification may, for these purposes, be sufficiently convenient and 
accurate. 



CHAPTER IT. 

ELEMENTAL AFFECTIONS. 
SECT. I. MUTUAL RELATIONS OF THE ELEMENTAL AFFECTIONS. 

a. We are now to analyze the affections into their elements, orders, 
classes, and manifestations, that thereby we may the more clearly dis- 
criminate all their varieties from each other, and be better assured that 
we have obtained all their number. We have already seen that the af- 
fections are deposits, developments,' growths on the will, produced by 
the combined working and operation of the essential activity and the 
essential intelligence. 

6. The affections are produced in a manner analogous to the produc- 
tion of the self and the will, except that they are formations from the 
side of the essential activity, rather than from the side of the essential 
intelligence, just as the intellect is a formation from the essential in- 
telligence rather than from the essential activity. In like manner, we 
shall see, at the last, that the affections and the intellect are combined to 
produce the conscience, which is the highest faculty of the mind, com- 
pleting the whole mental system. 

c. The affections have two divisions, viz. : 

1. The Elemental Affections. 2. The Determinate Affections. 

The elemental affections we find to be six, each one of which is the 
basis of one of the six orders which constitute the second, or determinate 
division of affections. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 115 

d. The Elemental Affections, as their name imports, are elements, and 
are designated according- to their subjective nature. They have no 
particular determination, but are general, relating to no definite or 
specific object ; while the Determinate Affections are these same ele- 
mental affections determined to a specific object, or class of objects, 
whose name they take. 

e. The elemental affections are all mutually interpenetrant and 
mutually blended, having but one being and one life, though they are 
distinguishable, and they each enter into all the determinations of the 
others. They are each distinct and individual, and each determines 
into a particular and distinct order of affections, yet each carries blended 
with it into its individual determination all the other elements, though 
subordinate to itself. 

f. The elemental affections are as follows : — 

1. Desirefulness. 2. Trustfulness. 

These are original and primary elements ; they are two simple and 
irreducible forms of affections. 

g. By combining Desirefulness and Trustfulness, we have Hopeful- 
ness, which is the third elemental affection. 

h. And then, by combining again Desirefulness, Trustfulness, and 
Hopefulness, we have the fourth elemental affection; viz., Cheerfulness. 

i. Then, by combining again Desirefulness, Trustfulness, Hopefulness, 
and Cheerfulness, we have Aspiringness, which is the fifth elemental 
affection. 

j. And lastly, by combining Desirefulness, Trustfulness, Hopefulness, 
Cheerfulness, and Aspiringness, we have the last elemental affection ; 
viz., Eeverentialness. 

k. And this completes the whole of the elemental affections, six in 
number. Now, these' several elements are the basis, each in turn, of 
the six orders of the determinate affections, which constitute the second 
division of the affections. 

SECT. II. THE AFFECTIONS AS SELFIAL AND SELFISH. 

a. The affections have not only the two general divisions of elemen- 
tal and determinate, with the classes and manifestations under the latter, 
but they have also, each and all, two modes of development, or states 
of being; viz., the natural and the unnatural, the good and the evil, the 
normal and the abnormal, and in practical life the right and the wrong. 

b. To designate and distinguish these two forms of development, 
as well as to give them their true nature, we have coined a new term, 
whose convenience and appropriateness will, we think, justify the iuno- 



116 



AUTOLOGY. 



ration. We call the natural, good, normal, and practically right develop- 
in. -nt of the affections, the Selfial state; and the unnatural, the bad. the 
abnormal, and the practically wrong development of the affections we 
call the Selfish state. 

c. The Selfial state is that in which God made the heart at the first, 
and as such is good, and may by right action become practically virtuous. 
In this state, the affections will act according to their original laws and 
mutual restraints. The Selfish state is that in which the affections are 
either excessive or deficient, either above or below their natural state, in 
action or development, and are in action both vicious and the source 
of vice. 

</. These affections in their normal or sellial state, and in their abnor- 
mal or selfish state, are as follows : — 

First Division — Elemental Affections. 



Selfial St 
1. Desirefulness. Love. 



Selfish Stale. 
Passionateness, Greediness, 

LlSTLESSNESS, DlSGUST, HATE. 



2. Trustfulness, Peacefulness. 

3. Hopefulness, Jotfulness. 



Over-confidence, Suspiciousness, 
Apprehension, Fear. 

THOUGnTLESS EXPECTATIONS, 
DlSTRUSTFULNESS, DESPONDENCY. 



4. Cheerfulness, Gladness. 



Frivolousness, Gloominess, 
Melancholy, Sorrow, Despair. 



5. aspiringness, excellentness, 

Playfulness, Emulousxess, 

Perfectiveness. 



Arrogance, Presumptuousness, 
Sensationalness, Dissipation. 



6. Reverentialness, Gratitude, 
Love, Worship. 



Adulation, Superstition. 



e. These six complete the whole round of affectional elements, and 
they are the bases, as we shall see, of the six orders of determinate 
affections. Why it should turn out that there should be just six, and 
only six elements, and just six and only six orders built upon them, is 
a question with which mental science has no more to do than has math- 
ematics to do with the question why three angles are sufficient to form 



THE AFFECTIONS. lit 

a triangle, and four to make a rectangle, and no more are necessary or 
can be used. 

/. These six elemental affections, and the six classes formed upon 
them, seem to be sufficient to comprehend and identify all the affections, 
and no room seems to be left for any more, nor does there appear to be 
any material left out of which to construct them : these cover the whole 
ground, and enumerate all the particulars in the whole field of the 
affections. 



SECT. III. THE ELEMENTAL AFFECTIONS DISCRIMINATED FROM 
EACH OTHER. 

First Elemental Affection — Desirefulness. 

a. Desirefulness is the first element of all the affections as one undis- 
tinguished mass. Desire is a combination of susceptibleness, emotive- 
ness, appetitiveness. As an elemental affection it has no one definite 
object before it, but is general and diffusive, forming the basis of man's 
affectional nature, which is a department as distinct as that of the Will, 
or Intellect, or Conscience. 

b. All that has been said of the affections as a whole, in Chapter I., 
may be said of the element of desirefulness. It is as yet indetermi- 
nate and spontaneous, mingling itself with all the other elements, and 
with all the orders of determinate affections, being the life-spring and 
impulse of them all. It is desirefulness that gives life to all the affec- 
tions ; it is the basis of their being. Upon desirefulness -are built all 
the modified forms of affection in the whole human heart. ' 

c. As the principle of life is the basis of all the varied and peculiar 
functions of the mind, so is desirefulness the basis of all the peculiar 
and modified forms of affection in the heart. As every faculty of the 
mind or body must first have life before it can have its own peculiar 
and distinctive functional nature, so must every affection of each and 
every order, class, and manifestation, have desirefulness first ; then can 
it have its own peculiar and distinguishing functional property built 
upon it. 

d. Desirefulness is thus the one underlying substratum, and the one 
all-pervading and prime element of each and all the affections ; that 
which must be, before anything else can be. It is both the centripetal 
and the centrifugal force of the heart ; the one great and all-enwrapping 
and all-pervading air and atmosphere of the soul. In it, by it, and 
through it all the other affections have their heat, activity, and life. 

e. Such is desirefulness in its natural, normal, original, and healthy 
state ; as such it is called selfial, not selfish, but selfial, as not morally 



118 AUTOLOGY. 

right or wrong in its state or action, but simply, as God said of the 
world when he made it. "good," and as such it is the normal condition 
and state of love in all its forms. 

/. These forms of love will appear where we carry this elemental 
affeetion of desirefulness out into the different orders, classes, and man- 
ifestations of determinate affections. There we shall see it in contact 
with its various objects, and showing its peculiar and diversified prefer* 
ences for all the various classes of objects. 

g. This also will be the case with regard to all the elemental affec- 
tions. They are given in their most generic and general form in the 
elemental state, as here they truly appear. When determined and de- 
veloped in their corresponding orders and classes, then will their pecu-. 
liarities more fully appear. 

h. While desirefulness in its sellial state is good, in its selfish state 
it is diseased and vitiated. It may be in excess, or in deficiency. It 
may be dissipated, or it may he wanting altogether; and the result 
will be much the same in both cases. Desirefulness may become greed- 
iness, lustfulness, and passionateness, when in excess; or it may be- 
come listlessness, indifference, aversion, disgust, hate, unnaturalnessj 
and worthlcssness, when deficient ; and in both cases the same depth of 
depravity, and sin, and guilt may be reached. In both cases the affee- 
tion ceases to be " good," and becomes bad. It ceases to be seljlal 
merely, and becomes selfish only ; and when chosen and adopted by the 
will, becomes the sin and guilt of the soul, the source of all evil pas- 
sions, and the fountain of death. 

?. As in its selfial slate desirefulness is the natural home of all virtu- 
ous sentiments, — not a virtue itself, but a habitation where all virtue 
may dwell, — so, on the other hand, when it becomes diseased, and 
vitiated, and turned to selfishness, it becomes as "a cage of unclean 
birds," the habitation of every evil passion and every hurtful lust. 

j. Says Paul (no mean metaphysician), of men whose hearts are in 
this selfish state, they are given over " to a reprobate mind, being filled 
with all unrighteousness, fornication, wickedness, covetousness, mali- 
ciousness ; full of envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity ; whisperers, 
backbiters, haters of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, inventors of evil 
things, disobedient to parents, without understanding, covenant-break- 
ers, without natural affection, implacable, unmerciful ; who not only 
do these things, but have pleasure in them that do them." 

k. Now, this is the diseased, depraved, and guilty state of the heart, 
when the affections cease to be natural, normal, selfial, and "very good," 
as God said pf them at the beginning, and become unnatural, impure, 
and selfish ; a state of which Paul says again, "the carnal mind," i. e., 
heart, "is enmity against God; it is not subject to the law of God, 



THE AFFECTIONS. 119 

neither indeed can be," and of which James says, it is "earthy, sen- 
sual, devilish." 

I. Thus that which was meant to be the fountain of love becomes 
the source of all hate. That which was meant to be the perpetual 
spring of pleasure becomes the constant cause of pain. Disgust and 
loathing take the place of pleasure and delight. Desire becomes aver-, 
sion, and geniality becomes repugnance, and the whole heart is turned 
against itself. 

m. These two states, of the affections both elemental and determi- 
nate, must never be lost sight of, viz. the selfial and the selfish state, as 
they form the basis of all sound discrimination as to moral character, 
liberty, and accountability. 

n. We shall also look to the affections, in these two states, for the 
explanation of all monstrous developments of unnaturalness, depravity, 
and insanity, as well as for the fixed virtues of religion and morality. 

o. To them virtue appeals with its motives of love, patriotism, and 
philanthropy. To them charity addresses its cry, and to them are applied 
all the stimulants to right and worthy action. To them are the incen- 
tives to righteous and honorable attainment applied, and to them does 
temptation to vice and sin address its allurements and its charms. 
Desirefulness, in all its modifications, is thus the great battle-ground of 
the soul, the field of its action and achievement. 

Second Elemental Affection — Trustfulness. 

a. We now come to Trustfulness, as an elemental affection of the soul. 
It seems of necessity to follow, in the order of nature and of action, next 
to Desirefulness. Desirefulness by its own nature impels to action, and 
action implies trust. No action will or can ever take place except 
there be first a trust in its possibility and in its practicability. A con- 
fidingness in ourselves, and in appearances around us, is essential to any 
action. 

b. Faith may justly be defined to be the confidence upon which we 
act in any department of life ; and so, here, this deep, original, elemental, 
and undistinguished trustfulness underlies all our actions. 

c. This element diffuses itself through all the other elements, and 
through all the orders of determinate affections built upon them, and is 
the ground and support, as desirefulness is the life and impulse, of all 
their actions. Desirefulness and Trustfulness are, therefore, the two 
primal and foundation affections of the whole heart. By combining 
them are built all the rest, and thus all the rest are also in them. 

d. This disposition of the mind is in all persons, but is strong and per- 
vading in some, and is weaker in others. It is an element of honesty 



120 AUTOLCRiY. 

and integrity, and is found prominent in all good men and in all worthy 
women. It is the ground and stay alike of all natural activity and of 
all moral deportment. The man who is full of faith and trust will bo 
active and enterprising-; and he that trusts in ethers will be trustworthy 
in himself, so far as his own intentions are concerned. 

c. This is trustfulness in its normal or selfial state. As such it is 
neither right nor wrong-, but, like all other things that God made in the 
beginning, it is "very good," and, though not virtuous, yet certainly 
fit to be the home and habitation of all virtues. 

/. Trustfulness naturally issues in peacefulness and composure, as 
well as in confidence and hope. 

" Come, peace of mind, delightful guest, 
Return and make thy downy nest 
Once more in this sad heart." 

Trustfulness is the "downy nest" of peacefulness, which reposes in it 
in innocence and security. Peacefulness is not an element, but a state 
of the affections, which nestles under the brooding wing of trustfulness. 

g. On the contrary, this same disposition of trustfulness, which in its 
natural state is good, and therefore denominated seltial, becomes in its 
diseased, corrupted, and vicious state a source of sin, and is no more 
selfial, but selfish : a disease and a fungus, ami when adopted by the 
free choice of the will, a sin and a source of transgression and guilt. 

h. In its selfish state, trustfulness becomes a blind and overweening 
confidence, a careless presumption, ami an i 1 1 1 j < i« » 1 1 ^ assurance; or, as 
extremes meet, it becomes distrust, suspiciousness, apprehension, fear- 
fulness, jealousy, engendering the narrowest selfishness, enmity, hostility, 
and hate. 

i. Thus sin may turn that which was a well-spring of life into a 
fountain of death. All these states appear more fully in the determinate 
affections. 

Third Elemental Affection — Hopefulness. 

a. Hopefulness is formed by a combination of the two primal elemental 
affections, viz., Desirefulness and Trustfulness. It differs from desire 
in that it has trust, and it differs from trust in that it has desire, and it 
differs from both in that it always affords pleasure. 

b. We may desire what we cannot attain, and hence feel pain. We 
may fully expect, and hence have trustfulness with regard to what we 
do not desire, and thus experience pain ; but to hope for a thing is both 
to desire it and to expect it, that is, to have desirefulness and trust- 
fulness ; and hence it is always pleasurable. 

c. And this is an elemental disposition of the mind ; it pervades all 



THE AFFECTIONS. 121 

the faculties, all orders, all classes of the affections, and is an original 
and integral element of man's affectional nature. 

" Hope springs eternal in the human breast." 

d. The office of this affection is to look for good in the future, and 
thus produce pleasant anticipations in the present. It is an all-pervad- 
ing expectancy of good, that touches all the springs of life, and, when in 
exercise, a general state of joy and gladness. It has not in its elemental 
state any definite object before it, but pervading all the other elements, 
orders, and classes of affections, it makes them all hopeful, and fills them 
with animation and enterprise. 

e. It is a happy condition of the mind, favorable to virtue and religion ; 
while its opposite, viz., despondency, gloom, distrustfulness, or its ex- 
cess of buoyancy, are predispositions to vice, to unbelief, to impious- 
ness, bad faith, and ungodliness ; this, surely, is a bad state of selfishness, 
while hopefulness is a selfial joy and goodness of being. The reverses, 
disappointments, and bereavements of this mortal life would utterly over- 
whelm us with sorrow, and sink us into despair, but for the disposition 
to hope for good in the future. 

f. No disposition of the mind is more universally recognized than 
this. And that it is a real, original affection of the mind, a real capa- 
bility in the affectional nature, and not a mere emotion produced by 
circumstances, is evident from the fact that those who have the least 
outward evidence of future good often have the highest hopes of it, 'and 
that they who have every prospect of good before them, and beckoning 
them on, are often the most gloomy and despondent. 

g. In words familiar to everybody, Patrick Henry says, "It is 
natural to man to indulge in the illusions of Hope. We are apt to 
shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren, 
till she transforms us into beasts ; " showing that this affection is one 
that acts irrespective of circumstances. And Pope, in words to the same 
effect, says, in the ever-memorable lines : — 

" Hope humbly, then, with trembling pinions soar, 
Wait the great teacher Death, and God adore. 
What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, 
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. 
Hope springs eternal in the human breast : 
Man never is, but always to be, blest. 
The soul, uneasy and confined from home, 
Rests and expatiates in a life to come." 

h. Thus is hope the benignest of all our affections. It begins with our 
first existence, and ends only with our life ; nay, it ends never. Says 
Campbell, — 

" Eternal Hope! when yftnder spheres sublime 
Pealed their first notes to sound the march of time, 
16 



122 AUTOLOGY. . 

Thy joyous youth began, but not to fade — 
When all the sister planets have decayed, 
When wrapt in fire the realms of ether glow, 
And Heaven's last thunders shake the world below, 
Thou undismayed shalt o'er the ruins smile, 
And light thy torch at nature's funeral pile." 

t. Hope is thus almost a virtue ; it is almost faith in God and good 
things ; it is almost heroism ; it approaches benevolence and love ; in 
any view, it is a light and joyous dwelling, where all these, and all other 
virtues, amenities, and charities of humanity, and of religion, may abide. 
If it is not virtue itself, yet, like desire and trust, it is its benign and 
genial atmosphere. Such is hope in its original and selfial state.' 

j. Hopefulness rises into joy and rejoicing in the fulness and glow 
of its prospects. The future looks beautiful and inspiring, and. the heart 
glows with joyous expectations. Hope is the full cup of gladness ; joy 
is the flowing over of that cup. Joy is the more fleeting, hope the 
more permanent. The one the living and producing tree, the other is 
the blossom and flower. 

" Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here; 
Passions of prouder name befriend us less : 
Joy has her tears, and transport lias her death ; 
Hope, like a cordial, innocent, though strong, 
Man's heart at once inspirits and serenes." 

k. When, on the other hand, it becomes thoughtless expectations of 
good, heedless indulgence, extravagant anticipations, so that it blinds us 
to real difficulty or danger, and leads to self-confidence and presump- 
tion, then it is no more selfial, but selfish ; it is no more the home of 
virtues, but becomes itself a vice, and the habitation of vices. 

I. Or, when this element is altogether wanting, then it arrives at the 
same point of vice as it does when in excess ; the extremes meet, and 
deficient hope becomes discouragement, despondency, despair, ending in 
inaction, recklessness, abandonment, and suicide. " No hope " is given 
as the condition of those who are " without God in the world." No 
hope is the natural basis of desperate wickedness. The man who hopes 
no good will scarcely love that which is good, and he who expects only 
evil will naturally say to evil, "Be thou my good ; " and this describes 
the disposition and state of a lost spirit. 

Fourth Elemental Affection — Cheerfulness. 

a. We come next in order to the element of Cheerfulness, which is 
the combination of Desirefulness, Trustfulness, and Hopefulness into one 
affection. It rises naturally and inevitably out of them, and is their 
legitimate fruit and effect. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 123 

b. It differs from hope as the fruit does from the blossom. Hope looks 
to the future. Cheerfulness is an enjoyment in the present. Cheer- 
fulness has in it satisfaction with one's own condition, and good-will to- 
wards others. It has thus the basis of benevolence, and is akin to it. 

A cheerful man cannot be a very bad man ; for any inveterate wicked- 
ness is incompatible with it. Nor does it imply those intense virtues 
which produce anxiety and care in their exercise ; yet Avhen these vir- 
tues have achieved their results then is there cheerfulness not only, but 
rejoicing. 

c. A cheerful temper promotes kindness, and is favorable to active 
good-will to others. It lightens the toils and redoubles the blessings 
of life. It disposes to charity towards men and gratitude towards God, 
and makes this mortal life seem to be a good, and not an evil. It leads 
to an active interest in all life's affairs, and makes all its ills seem more 
tolerable. It thus humanizes all the intercourses of men, makes them 
agreeable and refining, and opens a bright prospect for all the enterprises 
of human life. 

d. In his ode on the Passions, contrasting cheerfulness with mel- 
ancholy, Collins has these lines : — 

" But, O, how altered was its sprightlier tone, 
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 
Her bow across her shoulder flung, 
Her buskins gemmed with morning dew,. 
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, 
The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known : 
The oak-crowned sisters and their chaste-eyed queen, 
Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen 
Peeping from forth their alleys green ; 
Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear, 
And Sport leapt up, and seized his beechen spear." 

e. Thus Cheerfulness is swelled into joy by mingling again with hope 
in exciting activity. Hope fills the cup of the soul with gladness, 
joy makes it flow over the brim with its exultant ebullitions of expectant 
good. Cheerfulness remains when joy has subsided, as an ever-enduring 
fountain of pure and living water, which fills the soul with a perpetual 
gladness within the calm and quiet depths of its own silent, yet ever 
full and satisfied self. It is like an ever-flowing stream of pure, refreshing 
water. 

" Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull; 
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full." 

This is Cheerfulness in its selfial state. 

/. The excess of cheerfulness is frivolousness and wantonness, and the 
deficiency of it is sorrow, sadness, melancholy, despair, gloom. These 
various states have all an affinity. Frivolousness and wantonness are 



124 AUTOLOGY. 

often the mere reaction of sorrow and despair. These states of mind 
are all more or less evil and guilty. They are all selfish, and not selfial. 

g. Sorrow, when connected with penitence, or felt for some g-rcat 
public or private bereavement, is another thing. But this melancholy 
is often mere sentimental selfishness. Sometimes it is mere weakness 
and imbecility ; at other times it is the giving way of an over-sensitive 
nature to great calamity, bereavement, or disappointed love. 

h. This state of mind is compatible with great virtue, talent, genius, 
and usefulness ; but when so, it is a disease and a misfortune, and is 
carried by a mind in other respects strong, and which will not be 
crushed by it. So also it often sharpens wit and plumes the imagination, 
and sometimes gives the mind a preternatural power. 

i. But in all these cases it is abnormal and unhealthy, and for the 
most part selfish, and not selfial. See Determinate Affections. 

Fifth Elemental Affection — Aspiringness. 

a. We come in the next instance to Aspiringness, which is the fifth 
elemental affection. It is produced by the combination of Dcsireful- 
ness, Trustfulness, Hopefulness, and Cheerfulness into one affection. 

b. It is the disposition of the soul to rise above its present state, and 
ascend to higher attainments and a higher sphere of being and of action. 
In this disposition, man rises out of and above himself, and would be 
more than he is, and do more than he is doing. He would have higher 
mental endowment, more extended knowledge, larger power, more perfect 
bodily organization, and develop and perfect himself to the highest 
degree. 

c. This disposition appears first in mere physical playfulness, in the 
fulness of muscular and animal vigor, health, and strength, disporting 
itself in gambols and in feats of agility and skill. Then, also, it ap- 
pears in mental efforts of invention and of imitation, song, art, wit, 
and acuteness. 

d. It is thus the basis of all amusements, games, songs, dances, 
works of fiction and- imitation, as the drama, painting, sculpture, and 
poetry. In its lower form, it is mere animal playfulness ; in its higher 
form, it is imitation, origination, and ideal creation, in all forms of litera- 
ture and song, invention and of art. 

e. The child plays in mere wantonness, and imitates the pursuits of 
grown persons. Dolls, wooden horses, and toys excite the imagination 
to mimic shows and scenes, and the ruder the toy, the more excited and 
varied the imagination and the play. The stick is the horse, the board 
is a carriage or a sleigh, the shoe or the bark is a boat, anything will 
serve the purpose. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 125 

/, The tendency of the mind to rise above the real, and to complete 
and fill all things with ideal proportions and relations, springs up in our' 
earliest years, and goes with us to the close of life, and looks onward, 
and goes before, and beckons us forward to eternity. It is almost like 
hope, embodied hope. 

g. It is the attempt to realize the ideas of the reason and the hopes 
of the heart in actual being and life. In youth and mature life it shows 
itself in the strife for excellence and superiority, in wealth, learning, and 
professional and political eminence and distinction. 

h. In cases of peculiar mental organization it shows itself in poetry, 
romance, fiction, drama, music, painting, sculpture, and architecture ; iD 
philosophy and theology, and in the inventions of mechanical instru- 
ments, of machines, engines, and all manner of implements in all the 
practical arts of life. 

i. The intelligent and quickening spirit of man comes out in these 
the highest efforts of his genius, and rises above the forms and limita- 
tions of matter, and shows itself immortal. All these things will better 
appear when this affection determines itself into the order and classes 
of sesthetical affections. 

j. This affection, which in its purely selfial state manifests itself in 
aspiring after the excellent in all forms of being, action, and attain- 
ment — thoughts, honorable ambitions, and the love of excellence, 
and skill and beauty in themselves — may, as may any other affection of 
the mind, become selfish and vicious. It may be in excess, or in de- 
ficiency. 

k. In excess, it is mere animal wantonness, heedless and senseless; 
or it is a diseased longing for mere novelty, amusement, and excitement, 
which spends itself in extravagance, and uselessness, and dissipation. 
Or it may become a reckless and selfish ambition and self-seeking at the 
cost and to the damage of everybody else. 

I. It may become a passion for mere art, separate from all moral 
and all useful considerations, and place the perfections of man's art 
upon the throne not only of science and of philosophy, and invention, 
and beauty, but of God also. The prodigality of genius in the exercise 
of its gifts and the loftiness of its aspirations sometimes surpasses all 
the "metes and bounds" of usefulness and morality, and places the 
one law of beauty above the useful, the right, and the holy, as the one 
thing divine. 

m. This is the last and highest impiety of selfishness, in which, steal- 
ing the forms of eternal beauty, it " as God, sitteth in the temple of 
God, shewing itself that it is Qod." For selfishness deifies beauty only 
that it may make a God of itself. So also, in the mechanical and 
medical arts, men worship, their own inventions, and in philosophy their 



126 AUTOLOGY. 

own theories, and that only because these inventions and theories are 
Images of themselves. 

n. It is themselves, after all, that they worship, sitting- behind the thin 
veil of their own arts. They have discovered a few laws of nature and 
of the mind, and something of the divine mechanism of the heavens and 
the earth, and forthwith they worship that mechanism, and these laws, 
as God, and despise true religion. They worship their own discoveries, 
because they feel themselves greater than the things they discover, and 
hence they bow before a God, because it bows before them. 

o. Says the saintly Cowper, — 

"Forth steps the spruce philosopher, and tells 
Of homogeneal and discordant springs, 
Of principles, of causes, how they work 
By necessary laws, their sure effects 
Of action and reaction. He has found 
The source of the disease that nature feels, 
And bids the world take heart and banish fear. 
Thou fool, will thy discovery of the cause 
Suspend the effect or heal it? Has not God 
Still wrought by means since first he made the world? 
And did he not of old employ his means 
To drown it? What is his creation less 
Than a capacious reservoir of means, 
Formed for his use and ready at his will? 
Go, dress thine eyes with eye-salve, ask of Him, 
And learn, though late, the genuine cause of all." 

Thus does aspiringness show itself in its elemental state. 

Sixth Elemental Affection — Reverentialness. 

a. This is the last of the elemental affections, and is compounded of 
them all. Desirefulness with its love, Trustfulness with its peace, Hope- 
fulness with its joy, Cheerfulness with its gladness, Aspiringness with 
its playfulness, emulousness, and its perfectiveness, all mingled together 
in one affection, give us Reverentialness. 

b. Desire impels us, while its love warms us. Trust supports us, 
while its peace comforts us. Hope lifts us up, while its joy refreshes us. 
Cheerfulness sustains us, while its gladness animates us. Aspiringness 
gives us wings, while its playfulness, and its emulousness, and its ideal 
creativeness or perfectiveness inspire us with a divine life. And all of 
them flow together into one affection of reverence, and gratitude, and 
worship. 

c. This is the genesis of the natural disposition of man to worship. 
This makes him a religious being. We find this disposition to have a 
religion, to worship a God, universal in the human soul. It is the high- 



THE AFFECTIONS. 127 

est gushing forth of the soul from impulses within, towards the highest 
object of excellence, and worth, and power, without. Reverentialness is 
the rational and hearty recognition of that which is the highest, purest, 
aud most excellent in the .universe, and the rising up of gratitude 
thereto. 

d. This sentiment is experienced towards parents, superiors, teachers, 
benefactors, and towards the great minds whose works have instructed, 
guided, and elevated their fellow-men. 

e. It is natural to reverence genius, talent, courage, beauty, loveli- 
ness, worth, virtue in every form. The disposition to do so is elemental 
and inextinguishable in the soul. From these objects it rises naturally 
-up to God, and becomes worship, and gratitude, and praise, as we shall 
soon see, when we come to take up this affection in its determinate form, 
and in the order and classes in which it manifests itself. 

/. Reverentialness ascends the ladder of all the affections, step after 
step : aspiringness, or love of the excellent and the beautiful, is the 
last and highest round before it ascends to its own. Its own round is 
the highest of all, but that round never could exist or be reached, un- 
less the first and lowest, and every intervening round were already in 
existence, both to give it being and to furnish the means of ascending 
to it. Desirefulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, and aspir- 
ingness are all elements in reverentialness, and all must be ascended 
and passed over as successive rounds in a ladder, in order to reach 
reverentialness, which is the last and topmost round of all. 

g. Reverentialness in its determinate order and classes becomes wor- 
ship and devotedness to God. This is Reverentialness in its selfial and 
natural and healthy state. In its unnatural and selfish state, it becomes 
superstitious, idolatrous, and vicious, and degrading. Worship is elevat- 
ing when the object is high and holy. It becomes degrading when that is 
low and unworthy. The awe which any grand object inspires, the 
spell of beauty, the admiration of art, are all selfial, for while they 
rise not to the level of true religion, yet are they not degrading nor 
sinful. 

h. But when the admiration for art is made religion, then do we 
worship the creature more than the Creator. And when our reverence 
descends from art, to mere religious forms and shows, saints, images, 
and relics, priestly robes, offices and functions, holy days and holy 
places, then is it no more reverence, but self-degradation, a profanation 
of the soul, and a prostitution of its powers. And when still lower the 
soul goes down to worshipping stocks and stones, and creeping things, 
and employing charms and spells, then are its debasement and supersti- 
tion of the lowest form. It becomes selfishness self-degraded ; it be- 
comes superstition and sin. 



128 AUTOLOGY. 

i. Men will assimilate to that which they worship. It is of the na- 
ture of real worship to mould the soul alter the object worshipped, so 
that the more sincere the worship, the more certain the transformation. 
If, then, the soul worship the devil, the more sincere it is, the more cer- 
tainly will it be itself a devil in the end. Such is some notion of the 
Elemental Affections. 

j. It is hoped they have found a home at last, for in no treatise on 
mental philosophy extant have they a home of their own assigned to 
them. But they are shuffled about as indefinite and ambiguous, if not 
amphibious, one in one place and one in another, with no understanding 
of their natures, and no knowledge of their place in the economy of 
the mind. Their true nature and their true place have, it is now be- 
lieved, been found. They may now act and perform their appropriate 
functions, holding- as they do an elemental relation to the whole multi- 
tude and mass of all the affections. They enter into all, and become 
part of all, and pervade all the affections of the heart, and yet retain 
their distinct nature, and their definite position in the mind. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE GENESIS OF THE DETERMINATE AFFECTIONS. 

A. a. In the preceding chapter we have ascertained and pointed out 
the six elemental affections, viz., Desirefulness, Trustfulness, Hopefulness, 
Cheerfulness, Aspiringness, and Reverentialness, and found them to be 
original, generic and positive capabilities of the affectional nature, each 
having its various opposites, either as excesses or deficiencies. 

b. And we have found these affections to be indeterminate and dif- 
fusive, while they are distinguishable and individual in their nature; and 
that the first two are original and primordial, and that all the rest spring 
from them, and are combinations of them. So that they all have one 
vitality, though they have diversity of character and manifestation. 

c. Moreover, these elemental affections are purety mental, such as 
could exist in the mind in its disembodied state. They belong to it in 
their indeterminateness, as a mind simply, and take on the determinate 
form when the mind comes into the consciousness of individuality in 
its relations to other beings, and especially when it becomes embodied 
and enters human relations. 



♦ THE AFFECTIONS. 129 

d. These affections are now to enter into and pass through human re- 
lations, and will come out again in their primal form, when they rise 
above the human, and become devotional in their worship of God. In 
becoming determinate affections, therefore, these six elemental affections 
form the basis of six orders respectively, of determinate affections, which 
are formed upon them in succession. 

e. These orders rise the one out of the other, and one upon another, 
successively, from the first to the last, and by the determination of them 
all, through each, respectively and successively. 

f. For as these elemental .affections are each successive combinations 
of the rest, and thus are but one undivided, though distinguishable 
whole, so also they each and all enter into the combination of each of 
the orders of determinate affections, and thus they underlie, pervade, 
and work through them all, in all their operations, throughout the whole 
mind. This will more fully appear as we proceed to the formation 
and development of the determinate affections from the elemental. 



1. Desirefulness is the first of the elemental affections, and for the 
time being, it sums up and represents all the other elements. 

a. Now, by the determination of all the six elemental affections 
through desirefulness, which is the first elemental affection, is produced 
and springs up the first order of determinate affections ; viz., the 

Individual Affections. 

That this is the first determination of the elemental affections and the 
first order. of the determinate affections, will appear more fully when we 
consider that self-sustentation is the first office and impulse of nature, 
and that the self-sustentative are the first class of the individual affec- 
tions. 

b. This class of affections is called individual only by way of distinc- 
tion, because they relate more particularly to the individual. All affec- 
tions are personal or individual in the sense that they belong to the 
person ; but these relate in their office more particularly to the susten- 
tation, promotion, and defence of the individual, and hence are so 
called. 

c. We are here seeking only the genesis of the several orders of 
determinate affections. When found, we shall take them up and define 
and describe them, and their several classes and manifestations, according 
to their nature and functions. 

2. Trustfulness. — The second elemental affection is trustfulness, 
which for the time being sums up and comprehends all the other ele- 
mental affections. 

a. Then, by the determination of all the six elemental affections into 
11 



130 AUTOLOGY. 

and through trustfulness, and by their flowing out, and mingling with, 
and flowing through the individual affections, which are the first order 
of determinate affections, and flowing over beyond them, we have the 

Social Affections, 

which are the second order of determinate affections. 

b. They are a determination of all the elemental affections flowing 
through trustfulness, and through the individual affections, and overflow- 
ing beyond their limits, and forming a distinct mass by themselves. 
They then divide themselves into subordinate classes and manifesta- 
tions. 

3. Hopefulness. — The third elemental affection is hopefulness, which' 
in the act of the production of the next order of determinate affections, 
sums up and concentrates all the other elemental affections in itself. 

• a. By the determination of all the six elemental affections into 
and through hopefulness, and by their flowing out and diffusing them- 
selves through the orders of individual and of social affections, and flow- 
ing over and beyond the social affections, and forming a new body of 
affections by themselves, we have the third order of determinate affec- 
tions ; viz., the 

Patbioi EC A ffections. 

b. They partake, as it here appears, of all the preceding combinations, 
and overflow into a distinct basin by themselves, and branch into 
classes. 

4. Cheerfulness. — The fourth elemental affection is cheerfulness, which 
for the time being contains in itself all the elemental affections. 

a. Sow, by the concentration of all the six elemental affections into 
this one, and by their determination through it, and by their flowing out 
and uniting with the individual, the social, and the patriotic affections, 
and flowing over and beyond them into a new and separate body, we 
have the 

Philanthropic Affections, 

which are the fourth order of the determinate affections. 

b. These affections, thus formed upon and partaking of all the rest, 
divide themselves into various classes and manifestations. 

5. Aspiringness. — The fifth elemental affection is aspiringncss. For 
the time being, as in the preceding cases, all the elemental affections are 
comprised in this. 

a. Then, by the determination of all the six elemental affections into 
and through aspiringness, and by their flowing out and mingling them- 
selves with the individual, the social, the patriotic, and the philanthropic 



THE AFFECTIONS. 131 

affections, partaking of them all, and flowing over and beyond their 
limits on to new ground, and forming a new and distinct body by them- 
selves, we have the 

iEsTHETICAL AFFECTIONS. 

b. This new order of affections has many subdivisions, which have 
their own office and characteristics, and divide themselves into classes 
and various manifestations. 

6. Beverentialness. — The sixth and last elemental affection is- reveren- 
tialness. This element now combines all the rest within itself, both in its 
own formation and in the forming upon it of the next order of determi- 
nate affections. 

a. Now, by the determination of all the six elemental affections into 
and through the element of reverentialness, and by their flowing out 
through the individual, the social, the patriotic, the philanthropic, and 
the sesthetical affections, and pervading them all, mingling and com- 
bining with them all, and flowing over still beyond them all, we have 
the sixth and last order of the determinate affections ; viz., the 

Religious Affections. 

b. These are the last outgrowth and development of the heart, the 
last effort of the expansiveness of the affections. Here they cease to en-, 
large or increase, but round themselves into completeness and entirety. 
This is the whole human heart. The several elements have determined 
themselves into distinct orders of determinate affections, which have 
each their subordinate classes and manifestations respectively. 

c. We see that the several elements give each a definite order. 
Thus : — 

1. Desieefulness gives Individual Affections ; 

2. Trustfulness gives Social Affections ; 

3. Hopefulness gives Patriotic Affections ; 

4. Cheerfulness gives Philanthropic Affections ; 

5. aspiringness gives iesthetical affections ; 

6. Reverentialness gives Religious Affections. 

d. The nature of these orders, and their relation to the elemental 
affections, and to each other respectively, we shall discuss in the proper 
place. We have here sought only to give their genesis and arrange- 
ment, that they may be the more clearly and definitely set forth, when 
their examination is taken up separately. These several determinate 
•affections have each their normal or selfial state, and each their abnor- 
mal or selfish state, as we shall hereafter show, and as appears in the 
following table : — 



132 



AUTOLOGY. 



B. DETERMINATE AFFECTIONS. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Order First. 

Individual Affections. Self-seeking. 

Order Second. 



Soqial Affections. 



Gregariousness. 



Order Third. 
Patriotic Affections. Clannishness. 

Order Fourth. 
Philanthropic Affections. Commerciality. 

Order Fifth. 

iEsTHETICAL AFFECTIONS. SeNSATIONALNESS. 

Order Sixth. 
Eelicious Affections. Superstitiousness. 



These constitute 

Self-love, or Selfiality. 



These constitute 

Selfishness. 



a. The aflectional nature seems thus to have exhausted itself, and 
completed its own development. These several orders of affections 
have now a distinct and determinate form, and a specific nature and 
office, and they 'branch, and braid, and entwine themselves, as a net- 
work, and as a fleecy and fervent atmosphere, around the whole soul, 
giving 1 it all its susceptibility and its emotiveness, its sensibilities, its 
appetites, its desires, its passions, and its impulses. These orders will 
have classes under them, and the classes will again have various mani- 
festations, which, when completely carried out, will exhaust the whole 
field of the affections, distinguishing each individual, and comprehend- 
ing the whole. 

b. Other divisions, and other orders, and other classes might be made, 
according to any assumed principle" of arrangement, but they would be 
either deficient' or redundant; this method has been chosen as being 
natural, sufficient, and practicable. 

c. The arrangement of these several orders of the affections has 
been a matter of much and careful thought; that method being regarded 



THE AFFECTIONS. 133 

as most desirable which seems to harmonize with the structure of the 
mind, with the nature of its action, and with the comparative excellence 
of the affections themselves, or with some law, by which they might 
appear to grow out of the essence of the mind, or out of each other. 
Neither of these methods has, however, been found exclusively practi- 
cable. 

d. But reference has been had to them all, in arranging these or- 
ders, because they all are needed to give the basis of a classification ; 
since one of them may grow indistinct, where another may be clear in 
its lines of demarcation, and the methods being all homogeneous, they 
will unitedly afford a complete ground of classification. 

e. In accordance with this, it will be seen that each order, however 
widely separated, has its roots in the very centre of the mind, and the 
essence of the man. The order of Individual affections has of necessity 
its spring in the centre of the self, for desirefulness finds its first deter- 
mination in a disposition to self-sustentation. 

/. The order of Social affections has also its spring in that centre 
of being, the marital affection, which is the natural outflow of desire- 
fulness and trustfulness. 

g. The order of Patriotic affections has its roots in the soul of the. 
race and in the soil of the country to which the man belongs; for 
the native soil is the first object upon which hope flows over and be- 
yond the realm of social life. 

h. The order of Philanthropic affections has its roots in the deep 
and tender sympathies and humanities which begin in the parental and 
kindred heart, and is the natural outgrowth of desirefulness, trustful- 
ness, hopefulness, and cheerfulness, flowing out through individual, 
social, and patriotic affections into a broader and fuller humanity. 

i. The ^Esthetical affections have their origin low down in the play- 
fulness of young animal and mental life, and all aspirations after the 
excellent grow up therefrom to all their height and maturity. 

j. The Religious affections begin in the sense of weakness, depen- 
dence, and want that lies far down in the original desirefulness of 
the heart, and thus begets the incipient reverence for power and su- 
periority that comes out fully in the elemental affection of Reverential- 
ness. These conscious weaknesses, deficiencies, and wants rise up from 
the depths of the heart, and flow over from desire, trust, hope, cheerful- 
ness, aspiringness, and reverence, and through all the orders of per- 
sonal, social, patriotic, philanthropic, and BBSthetical affections, and rise up 
to God and heaven, and to all high excellence of every name and kind. 

k. Thus is worship made up of all things combined, and it is offered 
towards all that is highest, worthiest, and best, in earth and heaven, 
until it at last reposes on God. 



134 AUTOLOGY. 

/. Thus have all these crders their roots in the deep centre of the 
mind's being, and grow out in distinct and peculiar forms of life. 

m. It will- be found also thai these orders, while they each and all 
spring out of tin* same common centre of -being, yet succeed each other 
in a gradation which is, in some sort, in accordance both with develop- 
ment in nature and excellence in kind, to wit, — 

1. The Individual affections concentre all the others in themselves. 

l\ The Social order rises naturally out of the individual order, as a 
development, and belongs to a higher order in the scale of excellence. 

3. The Patriotic o # rder springs naturally ou1 of the social order, as a 
growth and an enlargement, and is also, in some respects, of a higher 
grade. 

4. The Philanthropic order rises as a development and growth upon 
the social and patriotic orders, and is above them in the scale of being. 

5. The Jlsthetie.d affections grow as an order oul of the individual 
affections directly, their root being animal and mental playfulness. l>ut 
they also spring from, and take into their nature, the social, the patriotic, 
and the philanthropic orders of affe'etions, and make joy, greatness, and 
beauty out of them all. In them the mind rises above itself, and looks 
down on its own faculties, and down on nature, ami spoils and toys 
with them, and makes beauty and ugliness, greatness and diminutive- 
ncss, joy and sorrow, gravity and ludicrousness, misery and merriment, 
out of them all. In this respect the sesthetical are the highest of all 

ections, and in their correspondent thoughts the highest of all 
human thoughts. 

il. Ami lastly, the Religious order rises out of every other order in 
the whole soul. Worship is the going up to God of the whole nature, 
in humble, penitent, grateful, and prayerful renunciation of self, and ac- 
knowledgment of God, and supplication of his grace and help. The 
devotional affections have therefore roots in all the other affections, and 
are an outgrowth and development of them. 

n. Let it be observed, still further, that the affections are here treated 
as capabilities, and not as states of the mind ; as faculties, rather than 
functions. The usual method is to treat the affections, or sensibilities, 
as one mass, and then to point out the different states, or degrees, or 
kinds of action into which this one mass is thrown. 

o. Such a method calls the first state emotions ; the second, affec- 
tions ; the third, desires ; having the whole mass of the affections act 
as a whole- each time. But towards one class of objects it will have 
emotions, towards others affections, and towards others desires; the only 
classification being in relation to the objects before the mind, and the 
degree of activity in the affections themselves. 

p. The classification of this work, however, divides the affections into 



THE AFFECTIONS. 135 

orders, classes, and manifestations, as faculties or capabilities, each of 
which is capable of all the degrees of activity towards outward objects 
respectively, which are given in the classification alluded to in the pre- 
ceding paragraph. 

q. Any order or class of affections may feel emotion, affection, and 
desire towards its objects. It is not, therefore, sufficient to give only 
these states and degrees of activity, which the affections may all have, 
but the different capabilities of having and being thrown into these 
states, with regard to different classes of objects, must be given, in 
order to bring out the true nature and structure of the human heart. 

r. It must never be forgotten that the affections of the heart are a 
community of individuals, to be governed and disposed of; or at least 
of forces to be managed and controlled; and as such, their individuality 
must never be lost sight of. 

s. The orders and classes, with their manifestations, are intended to 
be a complete and exhaustive inventory of those forces of the heart, 
which we call the affections ; or, to change the figure, a full census of 
the inhabitants of the heart, who are to be legislated for by the intel- 
lect, judged by the conscience, and commanded by the will. 

t. As such, no true analysis of them can be made, nor any intelligible 
account given, without considering them as individual faculties, forces, 
or capabilities. To regard them as one undivided mass, and to distin- 
guish only certain states into which that mass may be thrown, is to 
take a view of them the most superficial in its kind, and totally inade- 
quate in its nature to the demands of the case. It would be just as 
defective and insufficient, as to treat the intellect as all one mass, one 
faculty, and then speak only of its different states of action according 
to the objects before it. 

u. This has, in fact, been tried and abandoned. Indeed, the whole 
mind has been so considered, and intellect, affections, will, and con- 
science all regarded as making one mass, and then treated as the whole 
mind in a state of will, a state of affection, a state of cognition, and a 
state of moralizing. This poor method has long since so far yielded to 
a better analysis as to give way to the great divisions, sensitivity and 
intellect ; and to the division of the intellect into sense, understanding, 
and reason, and sometimes a separating of the affections from the will, 
and finally of the conscience from the affections. 

v. But the affections are still, for the most part, treated as one mass, 
having different states or degrees of activity. A judicious division of 
the affections into different faculties, not states, different capabilities of 
action, not different degrees of activity, has long been the desideratum 
of mental science. The attempt to meet this want is here made, and 
until some better is supplied, the foregoing classification is given as a 



136 AUTOLOGY. 

help to the better understanding of the nature and office of the affec- 
tions. 

10. Moreover, let it be here observed, that no affection in its natural 
state can be said to bo either right or wrung, any more than any faculty 
of the intellect can be said to be right or wrong. The various faculties 
of the affections, like the faculties of the intellect, or the members of 
the body, have in themselves no moral . character, as faculties. It is 
only their action that is either right or wrong when that action is 
chosen by the will or rejected by it, and because so treated by the 
will. 

x. These affections may be diseased, vitiated, depraved, debauched, 
like a drunkard's stomach, and be sources of mischief, pain, and sorrow; 
but right and wrong arc predicable only of the acts of the will, as it 
chooses or refuses, indorses or repudiates, these affections. 

y. For this reason we have given a name to the healthy and natural 
state of the affections, and also to the unhealthy and depraved state of 
the affections, in order to avoid confusion, and to keep up a proper dis- 
crimination. The natural and healthy state of the affections is therefore 
called the selfial state, while the diseased and depraved state of the 
affections is called the selfish state. The term "selfial" means simply 
that the affections, so styled, belong to the self, not as either right 
or wrong, but as part of its nature, and nothing more. The term 
" selfish " means that the affections, so called, are depraved, vitiated, 
and injurious in their states. With these views, we now take up the 
first order of the affections, and give, in the first instance, a. schedule of 
its several subordinate classes, with their specific modes of manifestation. 
Fur man's responsibility for his state of heart, see Chapter V., Sect. 3. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE ORDERS OF DETERMINATE AFFECTIONS. 

ORDER I. INDIVIDUAL AFFECTIONS. 

a. This, the first order of the determinate affections, is so named be- 
cause these affections refer more particularly to the self or individual. 
They do not, however, belong to the self, in any bad or hurtful sense of 
that term, but have a legitimate office in relation to it, which it is their 
nature to perform, and hence they are called individual, and in their nor- 



THE AFFECTIONS. 13t 

mal state are not selfish but selfial, having in them neither hurtfulness 
of tendency, nor moral character as right or wrong. 

b. They are of the nature of being itself, and are as right as the self 
itself is right. They belong to existence, and are of the nature and 
rights of existence, and in their proper exercise are the simple manifes- 
tations of being and of its rights. They comprise and enforce the duties 
which a 'man owes to himself, and in their legitimate exercise are com- 
mendable, and give worth, influence, and dignity. When perverted 
and abused they become monstrous and brutish, and incur guilt, con- 
demnation, and abhorrence. 

c. It must be borne in mind, in discussing the several orders, with 
their classes and manifestations, that they each comprise in themselves 
more or less of each of the six elements working in them in combination. 
This is the nature of the elemental affections, that they enter into all 
the determinate affections severally, and all join to form them in a 
greater or less degree. Hence each order of the determinate affections, 
with each of its classes and manifestations, is fully qualified for its 
office, and each elemental affection may work through it, and it has the 
advantage of partaking of them all. 

d. So also must it be borne in mind that each successive order after 
the first has in it a combination of all the preceding orders, so that the 
whole affectional force comes out in each order, class, and manifestation, 
in a modified form, while the distinguishableness and function of each is 
strictly maintained. 

e. This is a very great advantage in this method of classification. It 
gives to each particular affection the power of all, as in fact each act of 
any affection does imply the co-operation or antecedent action of some 
or of all the rest. No affection is thus supposed to do an act which 
implies or requires a power or disposition that it has not. 

f. The individual affections may do what requires not only desireful- 
ness, but trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and re- 
verentialness, for they have all these elements in combination in 
themselves. So may the social affections actually do that which is 
individual or patriotic. 

g. That which comes from any one element directly, and determines 
itself in a particular order, has still also in it all elements and all orders, 
alike those which have preceded it and those which follow it. Thus are 
all the orders and classes of the affections one, yet distinguishable and 
adapted to their respective functions. The affections all spring from one 
fountain, yet in that fountain are found all the ingredients that divide 
and develop into all their manifold classes and manifestations. 

h. Beginning with the first order, viz., the Individual Affections, we 
find them divided into four classes, to wit : — 
18 



138 



AUTOLOGY. 



Individual Affections. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Class First. Self-sustentative Affections. 

Self-sustentativeness. Self-greediness. . 

Class Second. Self-defensive Affections. 
Self-defensiveness. Aggressiveness, and 

Implacableness. 

Class Third. Self-acquisitive Affections. 
Self-acquisitiveness. Covetous'ness. 

Class Fourth. Self-Annunciative Affections. 
Self-annunciativeness. Obtrdsiveness. 



These sum up, 
Pure and Simple Selfiality. 



Those sum up, 
Gross Selfishness. 



?'. We now take up the first class of Individual Affections and give 
its manifestations, viz. : — . 

Class First. Self-sustentative Affections. 



Selfial State. 
Self-sustentativeness. 



Selfish Slate. 

Self-greediness. 



Manifestations. 



1, Vital Sensibility, 



2. Animal -Hunger. 

3. Animal Thirst. 

4. Animal Industry. 

5. Animal Foresight. 

6. Animal Playfulness. 



Insensibility. 
Effeminacy, 
gormandism. 
Intemperance, 
excitableness, indolence. 
Anxiety, Negligence. 
Wantonness, Inertness. 



j. First among- Self-sustentative affections, whose office is to preserve 
life, are the animal affections above given. Vital sensibility, hunger 
and thirst, are especially the voice of animal nature calling for sustenta- 
tion and nutriment. In this way is life sustained, and this method of 



THE AFFECTIONS. 139 

nature, though liable to abuse, is yet indispensable. Were the supply of 
food left to mere judgment, with no pain of appetite impelling thereto, 
health, and often life, would be sacrificed. 

k. The appetites, when in their natural state, are unsinful and harmless; 
but when perverted by over-indulgence, and made imperious by dissipa- 
tion, they become destructive of health, and morally wrong. The appetite 
for stimulants, whether strong drink or narcotics, spices or heated bever- 
ages, is artificial, induces disease, and shortens human life. There is no 
part of man's constitution that more needs the surveillance of the reason 
and the conscience than the appetites ; for on the right regulation of 
them depend in a large degree physical health, mental activity, and moral 
character ; and all these may be damaged if the appetites are uncon- 
trolled by the reason and the conscience. Man's physical system 
allies him to nature and the worm ; yet on its healthy condition and 
right government depend his highest social happiness and moral well- 
being. 

I. "A sound mind in a sound body" is man's best estate, and the 
former depends very largely on the latter. The evidence of vice and the 
effects of depravity manifest themselves in a diseased and decaying 
physical system. While, therefore, divine wisdom saw it not safe to 
intrust the preservation of life to reason and conscience, but placed it 
in the hands of an ever-active appetite, it has not left appetite without 
the control of reason and conscience. 

m. With grossness of appetite comes also grossness of feelings, 
sentiments, tastes and habits. The intellectual man sinks, and the 
social man becomes degraded, and the moral sense loses its quickness ; 
a conscious degradation destroys self-respect, and an increasing sen- 
suality overgrows the social affections, so that the man approximates 
to the beast, and his whole nature descends to a lower level. The 
aspirations of the free spirit and the appetites of the body stand at 
the opposite poles of our being, yet both unite in our one humanity. 

n. We now take up in order the several manifestations of the self- 
sustentative affections. 

First Manifestation — Vital Sensibility. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Vital Sensibility. Insensibility. 

Effeminacy. 

a. This is the fia-st and simplest manifestation of the Individual affec- 
tions. It is in its normal state the natural consciousness of life, as 
opposed to inanimate nature, to insensibility, and inaction. It is that 



UO AUTOLOGY. . 

quick susceptibility and excitableness to any impression from without 
which awake action and interest within. It is the sensibility to 
pleasure or pain which invites things preservative, and wards off things 
pernicious, giving pleasure in what is healthful, nutritive, and useful, and 
pain in that which is injurious and unhealthful. 

b. In this state it is right, natural, and good, and is called simply 
selfial. In its diseased state it becomes excessive, irritable, splenetic, 
and vicious, leading to debility of body and mind. The body becomes 
feeble, the appetite clamorous, the mind weak and whimsical, and the 
whole man demented, effeminate, imbecile, and impotent. 

Second Manifestation — Animal Hunger. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Animal Hunger. Gokmandism. 

a. Here the Individual affections have their deep tap-root low down 
in the bottom of the mind not only, but in the natural appetites of the 
body. The instinct of self-preservation and the craving for nutriment 
lie at the lowest spring and centre of life, and are therefore fitly the 
first in that first class of individual affections which we call self-susten- 
tativ'c. We call it animal hunger, as it is the natural appetite for the 
sustenance which supports life. It is as natural and healthful as life 
itself. It is, like breathing or the beating of the heart, an original and 
essential movement of nature, and part of being itself. 

b. In its natural state it is not only innoxious, but right, just as being 
itself is right. In its diseased or vitiated state it becomes hurtful and 
wrong ; from self-sustentation it becomes mere self-greediness, and is 
selfish and devouring, and ultimately self-consuming. In its diseased 
state it is known as gormandism and gluttony, and becomes a vice and 
a destroyer. While in its natural and healthy state this affection is 
selfial and self-preservative, in its diseased state it is selfish and self- 
destructive ; in the former case it is good, in the latter it is an injury ; 
the one is right, and the other wrong. 

Third Manifestation — Animal Thirst. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Animal Thirst. Intemperance. 

Animal Thirst is of precisely the same nature with animal hunger, 
and in its healthy and in its diseased states has the same characteristics. 
In its healthy state it is essential to sustaining life, and is natural and 



THE AFFECTIONS. 141 

right ; in its diseased state it is the vice of intemperance, and is de- 
structive and ruinous. 

Fourth Manifestation — Animal Industry. 

Selfial State. . Selfish Stale. 

Animal Industry. Excitability, Indolence. 

a. This stands opposed, to a diseased activity, and to indolence. In- 
dustriousness is, no doubt, largely a bodily gift, and dependent upon 
temperament ; even mental activity must depend largely on physical 
construction and combinations. A sluggish brain is caused by sluggish 
blood and a slow temperament. A body ever so muscular, and a 
brain ever so large, with a slow temperament, will not accomplish as 
much as an industrious and active temperament will, with a small brain 
and a feeble body. 

6. This industriousness of body and of mind lies at the basis of all 
thrift, comfort, competence, cleanliness, enterprise, enjoyment, and well- 
being. It is almost a moral virtue ; surely it is useful and prudent,' and 
at least, purely selfial ; while a diseased activity is an injury, and indo- 
lence is a vice. Indolence is the parent of slovenliness, delinquency, 
and debasement, and is one of the lowest and most brute-like forms of 
selfishness. 

Fifth Manifestation — Animal Foresight. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Animal Foresight. Anxiety, Negligence. 

a. Animal Foresight is a sort of compound of industry and sensibility, 
and leads to a useful employment of the natural industriousness. It 
looks to self-preservation, to provision ; in the bee and in the ant it pro- 
vides for winter, and is only a modification of the original instinct of 
self-preservation. 

b. Foresight is natural and healthful ; its absence is a defect ; its 
excess is a disease ; the one producing negligence, and the other hurtful 
anxiety ; and while foresight is almost a virtue, over-anxiety and negli- 
gence, on the contrary, become positive vices. Foresight is selfial 
prudence, while negligence and over-solicitude are only forms of selfish- 
ness, which is sin. 

Sixth Manifestation — Animal Playfulness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Animal Playfulness. Wantonness, Inertness. 



U2 AUTOLOGY. 

a. This disposition of the mind belongs to the first stages of animal 
life, and rejoices in muscular activity, as well as in mental sportiveneaa 
In the first case it shows itself in sports of swiftness and strength, and 
in the second in riddles, problems, repartee, and wit. 

b. The office of this affection is education and recreation. The young 
animal, whether brute or human, exercises its limbs in sport, and gains 
strength and power ; and so the young intellect develops itself by its 
own playfulness, and acquires both knowledge and power. This prop- 
erty, we shall soon see, like the desire of excellence, lies at the bottom 
of the sesthetical affections, into which they flow, and in which they be- 
come the basis of ideal forms and perfections. This playfulness stands 
opposed to wantonness and inertness of body or of mind. It is nature's 
resource against exhaustion and stagnation, and its provision for growth 
and recuperation. . 

c. Thus we have passed through the lowest forms of the individual 
affections; they provide for self-sustentation. We have named, in their 
order, their different modes of manifestation, and see thai in their selfial 
state they are only the different modes of a natural and justifiable self- 
sustentation, while iu their debased and abused state they are a more 
vice of self-greediness. In their natural and healthy state they belong 
to the first springs and elements of life ; in their diseased state they are 
a fountain of death. 

We now proceed to the second class of individual affections. 

ORDER I. INDIVIDUAL AFFECTIONS. 
Class Second. Self-defensive Affections. 

Selfial Slate. Selfish State. 

Self-defence. Aggressiveness, Implacableness. 

a. The office of this class of affections is sufficiently indicated by the 
title. Self-preservation and self-defence become identical in those in- 
stances where something threatens with damage or death. Self-preserva- 
tion may be sought, as in the preceding class of affections, by purely 
peaceful methods, such as the obtaining of food, air, water, shelter, 
which is a mere observing of the laws of living and health ; and if, 
under such circumstances, " self-preserVation is the first law of nature," 
much more is it the case when we are attacked in person, property, and 
reputation ; for these call for defence, and not simply sustentation. 

b. The self-defensive affections comprise all those properties which 
are authoritative, persistent, prudential, bold, combative, and energetic, 
and are employed in all the forms and methods of security and defence. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 



143 



They guard the self as distinguished from any other individual, and 
maintain personal rights ; resist invasion, oppression, extortion, and 
hostile attacks of every kind. In them are comprised also all the per- 
versions of this property of the mind by which these affections cease to 
be selfial, and become selfish, injurious, and destructive. 
c. They have the following 

Manifestations. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

1. Physical Sensibility. Moebid Physical Sensibility, 

arising from palpitation of the 
Heart, or from* a Diseased 
Nervous System, or from Vi- 
cious Habits. 



2. Apprehensiveness, 

Cautiousness, Reticence, Fear, 
Secretiveness, Alarm. 



Timidity. 

Artifice, Deceitfulness. 
Pusillanimity, Cowardice. 
Dread, Terror, Panic 



Resentfulness, 

Rising up against Wrong, 

Repelling Injury, 

Resisting Evil, Anger, Wrath. 



Revengefulness. 
Maliciousness, Malignity, Envy. 
Detraction, Hate, Madness. 



4. Courageousness, 

Overcoming Difficulties, 
Self-defence, Braving Danger, 
Exterminating Vice, 
Unconquerableness. 



Contentiousness. 
Censoriousness, Unmercifulness. 
Want of Natural Affection. 
Destructiveness. 
Murderousness. 



These sum up a right and 
justifiable 

Self-defence. 



These sum up 

Implacableness, Cruelty, and 
Murder. 



First Manifestation — Physical Sensibility. 

a. The quick sensibility to bodily pain, when any violent contact 
occurs, is one of the first provisions for self-preservation. We instinc- 
tively shrink from violence to our bodies, and especially from anything 
that threatens any of their more sensitive or vital organs. A lively sen- 
sibility makes us close the eye, or avert the body suddenly, when we 
apprehend a blow; and this action is indeliberate and instantaneous. 
The movement is called instinctive ; and though in practical life our 



144 AUTOLOGY. 

physical sensibilities may be the first to manifest it, still it is equally 
common to all the affections and emotions ; anger, resentment, love, joy, 
moral approbation or abhorrence may each act instinctively, as well as 
after deliberation. Bodily sensibility, however, stands at the farthest 
outpost of the man, and gives the first instinctive movement for self- 
preservation ; and this sensibility in any organ of the body is the call 
of nature for her safety, and the first warning note of coming retribution. 

Seljial State. Selfish State. 

Physical Sensibility. Morbid Physical Sensibility, 

arising from palpitation of the 
Heart, or from a Diseased 
Nervous System, or from Vi- 
cious Habits. 

b. This sensitiveness, that informs us of danger, is altogether similar 
to that power of instinct by which the young of animals select their 
food, birds take to the air, and fowls to the water. It is akin to that 
quickness of apprehension by which human beings interpret the feelings, 
intentions, and character of one another, on observing the expression of 
the countenance, the air, bearing, gait, tones of the voice, and mode of 
expression, and detect at once hypocrisy or malevolence, or seize upon 
true simplicity and love. It is the same in kind with the sagacity of the 
dog, which catches at once the spirit as well as the person of his master, 
and learns his wishes. 

c. A quickness of sensibility in all the affections characterizes women, 
and enables them to form instinctive judgments with regard to character 
and affairs, often more rapid and more correct than can be formed by the 
greatest intellect deriving its judgments from deep principles and long 
experience. Instinctive action is involuntary, and arises from the effect 
of the appearances around us upon our sensibilities, without waiting for 
the slower movements of our intellect to define and judge of them. As 
with a mirror we could more suddenly and accurately give to a friend his 
features and his face than we could draw them with a pencil and pre- 
sent them to him, so the sensibilities of some persons will more rapidly 
and accurately give the characters of others, and the bearing of certain 
courses of action, than could their deliberate judgment. On the same 
principle is bodily sensibility a more prompt and sure safeguard than 
could reason and experience be. 

d. This sensibility may sometimes be diseased, and unduly sensitive. 
It maybe preternatural, and in such cases mislead us, as in case of heart- 
disease, or of a shattered nervous system ; but its intended use, in its 
normal and healthy state, is for self-preservation, of which it is the first 



THE AFFECTIONS. 145 

,and most reliable safeguard. It belongs to nature, and, like all of na- 
ture, is in the sight of God " very good." 

Second Manifestation — Apprehensiveness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Apprehensiveness. Timidity. 

Cautiousness, Reticence. Artifice, Deceitfulness. 

Fear, Secretiveness. Pusillanimity, Cowardice. 

Alarm. Dread, Terror, Panic. 

a. The office of this affection is to ward off danger by anticipating 
it. While courage overcomes danger by confronting it, apprehensive- 
ness by foreseeing avoids it. The affection of apprehensiveness has 
several modifications, differing only in degree, such as cautiousness, 
reticence, secretiveness, fear, alarm, dread, terror. This affection has 
thus its uses and its abuses. Cautiousness becomes timidity and cow- 
ardice ; reticence may become duplicity ; secretiveness may become 
artifice ; alarm may become panic ; and a wholesome dread may become 
the constant foreboding of evil. Cautiousness is a prudent foresight 
for the attainment of good and the avoidance of evil. It looks about 
the present for snares and surprises, and forward to the future for 
results and consequences. It leads to watchfulness and circumspection, 
and is one of the greatest of personal safeguards. 

b. Reticence is retaining and withholding that which it might be inju- 
rious to communicate, and which we are not bound to tell. Secretive- 
ness is concealing and hiding that which would otherwise be known. 
It is cautiousness and reticence intensified. This form of apprehensive- 
ness appears when dangers threaten us and thicken around us in spite 
of our cautiousness, and our reticence, and all our efforts to avoid them ; 
and it leads to concealment of the thoughts, intentions, motives, and 
the person itself. While cautiousness leads to watchfulness or flight, 
secretiveness leads to concealment ; and while a perverted cautiousness 
is cowardice, a perverted secretiveness is intrigue ; and thus they may 
be made the instruments of mischief and calamity, though intended for 
defence against danger. 

c. A more vivid apprehension of danger than that thus described is 
alarm. It startles our security, and leads to open exertion and fear. 
Fear is a settled anticipation of evil, and when roused by some sudden 
alarm, becomes a most powerful stimulant to action. It gives a preter- 
natural strength and activity, and under its influence the most extraor- 
dinary feats have been performed. It braves every danger, and over- 
comes every obstacle ; yet it is not courage, but a sort of madness. 
Another stage of apprehension brings us to consternation, dread, terror. 

19 



146 AUTOLOGY. 

At this point fear ceases to be a stimulant, and utterly overcomes its 
victim ; he becomes powerless and helpless. Like one benumbed by 
cold, when on each nerve 

" The deadly winter seizes, shuts up sense," 
or when under " some appalling shock of fate," he finds 

"Each nerve at once unstrung, 
Chill fear has fettered fast his feet, 
And chained his speechless tongue." 

d. Thus the affection of apprehensiveness has its office, and fear its 
uses. "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom ; " and " the 
prudent man foreseeth the evil and hideth himself." And thus is it a 
source of correction and of defence ; while it may be perverted into 
cowardice and deceitfulness, or into terror and dread. 

Third Manifestation — Resentfulness. 

Selfial Slate. Selfish State. 

Resentfulness. Revengefulness. 

Rising up against Wrong. Maliciousness, Malignity. 

Repelling Injury. Detraction, Hate. 

Resisting Evil, Anger, Wrath. Madness. 

a. It appears in resentment, indignation, anger, wrath. Their legiti- 
mate office is self-defence, and opposition to evil only. It is more in- 
tense in its nature that any form of apprehensiveness. It, as well as 
apprehensiveness, is a stimulant to courage. The true character of this 
affection may be learned from the exhortatiou, " Be ye angry, and sin not ; 
let not the sun go down upon yo ur wrath ; " showing that there may 
be a just feeling of resentment and indignation against wrong and base- 
ness, which is neither passion nor revenge. When an intended indig- 
nity is offered us, when the helpless are wronged, when worth is dis- 
honored, when virtue is violated, then resentment is a rising up of the 
soul against injury and wrong, just as courage is a rising up against 
danger. God is said to be " angry with the wicked everyday," by 
which is meant, his holy abhorrence of sin ; and precisely so, a just 
man, a holy soul, may feel a righteous indignation at sin. 

b. But though this affection is originally right, and may be exercised 
in righteousness, yet no other disposition of the mind is so often or so 
fatally perverted. While in its legitimate condition it is only resent- 
ment against injury, and rising up against wrong, in its perverted state 
it passes from anger and wrath to malice, vindictiveness, revenge, and 
murder. The general action of this affection is to give intenseness, 



THE AFFECTIONS. 147 

energy, determination, and force of character ; but perverted, it becomes 
inveterate and destructive. While courage seeks only to overcome, 
revenge seeks to destroy ; while the former seeks only conquest, the lat- 
ter seeks extermination. Thus it gives vindictiveness to the temper, 
the sting to sarcasm, the burning to wit. It delights in giving pain, 
and is severe in everything ; its mirth is cruel, its sport is destruction. 
Anger when intense becomes wrath, and wrath may become malice. 
While wrath is open and offensive, malice is more calm and secret, and 
is nursed into enmity and hatred. Hatred is a more settled form of 
malevolent feeling, and becomes a fixed and inveterate hostility. 

c. At bottom, however, hatred in its legitimate form, is only a strong 
aversion to that which is injurious and wrong. God is said to " love 
righteousness and hate iniquity ; " and the Psalmist, approving himself 
before God, says, " Do I not hate them that hate thee ? I hate them 
with a perfect hatred; I count them my enemies." So far, then, as 
hate is only this, it is justifiable in man. God and good men have a love 
of benevolence for sinners, while they abhor their sins. But hatred in 
men is often transferred from the wrong to the wrong-doer, and thus 
becomes malignant and hateful in itself. It is, then, the absence of all 
kindness, sympathy, and all love of the right, and all regard for mercy, 
and turns into enmity, and cruelty, and revenge. 

d. Revenge is a feeling of unmixed malevolence not only, but of de- 
termined hostility. Wounded feeling rises in intenseness from resentment, 
indignation, anger, wrath, to malice, hate, revenge. It watches that it 
may catch its victim, digs pits, sets snares, and bides its time until it can 
wound in the tenderest point, and that most fatally and immedicably, and 
then strikes ; strikes sometimes secretly, sometimes openly, as may best 
suit its purpose ; and it seldom fails of its victim ; for who can always 
elude, or be so watchful and so fortunate as to escape forever 

'> The patient search and vigil long 
Of him who treasures up a wrong"? 

'Thus resentment becomes perverted until it fulfils its part of all that 
dark picture drawn by the apostle, in so many places, where he speaks 
of men as depraved with "anger, wrath, malice, hatred, variance, emu- 
lations, strife, envyings, murder, and such like," and sets these passions 
in contrast with the fruits of the Spirit, "love, joy, peace, long-suffer- 
ing, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance," — and enjoins 
"forbearing one another and forgiving one another, if any man have a 
quarrel against any ; even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye : and 
above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfect- 
ness," — all this characterizes the heart when restored, in some good 
degree, to its selfial and pure condition. 



148 AUTOLOGY. 

Fourth Manifestation — Courageousness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Courageousness. Contentiousness. 

Overcoming Difficulties. Censoriousness, Unmercifulness. 

Self-defence, Braving Danger. ,Want of Natural Affection. 

Exterminating Vice. Destructiveness. 

Unconquerableness. Murderousness. 

a. The office of this affection is to face danger, to resist power, to 
overthrow evil, to stand up against wrong-. No disposition of the mind 
is better known than this. No two characters differ more than the 
man of courage and the man who is without it. Of this Luther and 
Melanchthon are illustrations. 

b. The possession of courage is not always a virtue, nor the want of 
it always a crime. There is a great constitutional difference in men. 
Some are naturally heroic, and some are naturally submissive ; some are 
naturally cool, and some sensitive ; and the feeble in body may some- 
times be brave in spirit. Mothers, sisters,^ and wives often show as 
much courage as do fathers, husbands, and brothers, though in a differ- 
ent form. 

c. There is a moral courage that faces public opinion, and a bravery 
that meets personal danger. Luther had both. He not only confronted 
a false public opinion, but encountered personal and physical danger. 
Courage implies a combat with opposing forces. It is a disposition to 
combat and overcome. It is sustained, of course, by a consciousness of 
strength, by the desire of self-preservation, and a sense of right, and it is 
weakened by a conviction that we are in the wrong. But when life 
and liberty, when kindred and country, when truth and righteousness, 
are assailed, then has courage its strongest supports in the good causes 
for which it contends. And hence how true that 

" Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, 
And he but naked, though locked up in steel, 
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted." 

d. Yet while it is true that men may be made bold by the right, and 
fearful by the wrong, still there is an original difference in the constitu- 
tions of men. There is an original element of character which may be 
denominated courage, apart from all and any surroundings. Some men, 
with no more physical or mental force than others, have yet courage to 
meet opposition and danger, which others have not. Some are born 
cowards ; their hearts faint, their strength fails, before danger. Want 
of muscle or of nerve, or a diseased state of the vital organs, may occa- 



THE AFFECTIONS. U9 

sion fear. The disposition of the soldier to combat disposes him to go 
to the field of battle, and oppose force with force ; while the martyr, with 
equal courage, opposes only his faith to the violence that assails him, 
and contends for the truth only with the weapons of truth, and goes to 
prison and to death with a spng of triumph. 

e. The missionary who carries the gospel amongst a band of savages 
contends against the forces of sin, though with the weapons of love. 
The wife who follows her husband to the scaffold opposes force with 
force, though it be not with sword or spear. She wields a moral force 
mightier than all missiles of death. The man who dares avow his 
opposition to a tyrannous public opinion, and the soldier who waits till 
his time to march into the line of battle comes, each shows as much 
courage, though of a different kind, as does the soldier who rushes at 
once into the cannon's mouth, and dies in the midst of battle. When 
Tell dared to shoot at the apple on the head of his own child, when he 
told the tyrant that the concealed arrow was for him, in case the child 
had been killed, he contended with opposing forces, and exhibited as 
much bravery as did Bonaparte when he led his forces across the bridge 
at Lodi, or when fighting the battle of Waterloo. 

f. And thus, though courage does not always employ physical 
weapons, yet it is the combating of force of some kind, whether 
physical, or mental, or moral, with some opposing force, and the en- 
countering of danger of some kind, that constitutes courage. Courage 
is facing danger and contending against it ; this is its essential element. 
The man who plunges into an angry flood to save a fellow-being, the 
fireman who rushes through flames to save a child, he 

" Who dares to own an injured cause 
Though fools deride its sacred laws," 

he who will own a brother in disgrace, has courage, and opposes force 
with force in the face of danger ; and this rising up against danger is 
courage. 

g. It is an original affection of the mind, and not the result of the 
combination of any other properties, for all the occasions to courage are 
sometimes known to be present to some persons, and yet they are cow- 
ards ; indeed, it is of the essence of courage to face danger in the 
absence of favoring circumstances and helps. 

h. Fortitude is a form of courage, but it is that form of courage 
which endures reverses, and waits for the fit time. It partakes more of 
patience and unconquerableness ; a spirit that will not be disheartened, 
and that masters itself and stands firm. If courage is the power to strike 
against danger, fortitude is the power to forbear to strike until the fit 
time ; it is, therefore, of the essence of courage, for it is courageous at 



150 AUTOLOGY.' 

times to dare to be called a coward. It is courage to bear up under 
disaster, and to renew the fight after a long series of defeats ; in this 
courage there is fortitude mingled with an active opposition to danger. 

*. The office of courage, as an original element of our nature, is self- 
defence, and the overcoming of any evil or obstacle in the way of our 
development or duty. It does not seek the destruction of what it op- 
poses, but simply the mastery, for the purpose of self-defence and prog- 
ress in self-development. 

j. This affection, however, like all others in the human heart, has its 
perversions. From a mere disposition to confront danger for the sake 
of self-preservation or the defence of the right, and to overcome obsta- 
cles to progress, it may become contentiousness, hostility, and a spirit 
of strife and violence. In its legitimate condition, it is courage and for- 
titude, and leads to noble daring, to enterprise and worthy achieve- 
ment, to the defence of the right, and the overcoming of evil : but in 
its perverted state it leads to "debate, cruelty, destructiveness, envy, 
malignity, covenant-breaking, is without natural affection, implacable, 
unmerciful," and is the champion of ambition, of covetousness, of 
pride, of enmity, of hatred, of all unrighteousness, and all oppression, 
and of all sin. 

Now, these various manifestations of the Defensive affections in their 
normal and selfial state, all sum up a justifiable self-defence ; and in 
their diseased, abnormal and selfish state, they become purely & malig- 
nant depravity, a selfishness in its most selfish form. 

ORDER I. — INDIVIDUAL AFFECTIONS. 

Class Third. — Self-acquisitive Affections. 

Manifestations. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

1. Inquiringness, " Curiosity, 

A Propensity to know. Itch for Novelty. 

2. Gainfulness, Desire of Avariciousness, 

Property, Prudence. Miserliness, Meanness. 

3. Potentialness, Despoticalness. 
Desire of Power. 

4. Approbativeness, Vain-gloriousness, 
Love of Esteem, Honor, Obsequiousness, 
Distinction, Fame. Hypocrisy. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 151 

5. Praiseworthiness, Emulation, Ambitition, Rivalry, 

Superiority, Meritoriousness, Envy, Jealousy. 

Aspiration. 

These sum up These sum up 

Self-acquisition. Covetousness. 

a. This class of affections is distinguished from the self-sustentative, 
which look only to maintenance, and from the defensive, which over- 
come obstacles and danger, in that it seeks practical acquisitions. They 
are the possessory affections, and are usually called desires, while other 
affections are called emotions. 

b. The acquisitive affections desire objects not so much for the pur- 
pose of gratifying an appetite, as for the sake of gain or advantage in 
other respects. They are made up of the desire of knowledge, or in- 
quiringness ; the desire of property, or gainfnlness ; the desire of power, 
or potentialness ; the desire of esteem, or approbativeness ; the desire of 
mastery and superiority, or praiseworthiness. 

First Manifestation — Inquiringness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Inquiringness, Curiosity, 

A Propensity to know. Itch for Novelty. 

a. This affection is commonly known as the desire of knowledge, or 
curiosity. It is very marked in its characteristics, and peculiar in its 
tendencies. It is observed in early childhood, and continues often until 
old ago. It lies at the foundation of all our investigations and pursuits 
in quest of knowledge. It impels childhood to activity and observa- 
tion, and to raise its 

" curious questions put 
In much simplicity, but ill to solve ; " 

and it stimulates manhood to the deepest studies of nature and of 
science. 

b. To this disposition of the mind the news reporter addresses his 
items of intelligence, and the idler his gossip. The historian present's 
it with the remote facts of time, and the traveller with the strange 
sights and wild adventures of a foreign land. For this the drama- 
tist complicates his plot of a mimic life, and the novelist weaves the 
web of his fictitious story. 

c. But for this desire to know, we should have no science, no history, 
no literature, no art. Whether as a love of knowledge, a desire of 
novelty, an insatiableness for amusement, or a susceptibility to the 



152 AUTOLOGY. 

marvellous, it is the constant impulse to the attainment of all human 
intelligence. The kind of knowledge thus obtained will of course de- 
pend on the concurrence of other causes, and the mingling of other 
affections. 

d. No other affection needs more than does this the governing of the 
will, and the direction of the reason and the conscience. It may lead 
to the highest attainments in mental and moral culture, and to the no- 
blest acquisitions in science ; or, if abandoned to low caprice, or the 
misdirection of passion, it leads to mere novelty, amusement, frivolity, 
and dissipation. " All the Athenians and strangers which were there 
spent their time in nothing else but either to tell or to hear some new 
thing;" and the first temptation of the devil was addressed to the 
inquiringness, curiosity, and marvellousness of the deceived neophyte of 
Eden. An idle curiosity is the most prolific source of mischief and 
vice. Yet the original affection of inquiringness has in it not only no 
evil, but was planted for good, and is capable of good, and indispen- 
sable to good. 

e. It has in itself no moral character, but when employed in 
the attainment of useful knowledge, is one of the chief sources of 
well-being. It becomes vicious only when perverted to an idle inquisi- 
tiveness and a prurient curiosity. Everything is a legitimate subject 
of inquiry for right purposes; but men " vainly puffed up by their fleshly 
mind " may inquire after that which neither God nor nature ever de- 
signed them to know, or may seek knowledge of vice for the gratifica- 
tion of depraved appetites and low desires. All such knowledge the 
apostle calls "vain babblings," "and oppositions of science falsely so 
called," and "the knowledge that puffeth up." 

f. " The knowledge of good and evil " is a perilous acquisition ; yet 
to know the truth, only maketh wise. The legitimate office of this affec- 
tion is a knowledge of the truth, of all truth, and of the right. When 
it is perverted it becomes a corrupt desire to know sin. And while in 
its selfial state it is a pure desire to know, in its selfish state it is an idle 
or eager curiosity, a restlessness for change, and an itch for novelty. 

Second Manifestation — Gainfulness. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Gainfulness, Avariciousness, 

Desire of Property, Prudence. Miserliness, Meanness. 

a. This affection is known as a desire of property. It is thus the 
parent of industry, economy, frugality, prudence, perseverance, and 
practical skill. All these moralities are called into requisition by the 
legitimate action of this disposition ; and by so doing, it promotes order 



THE AFFECTIONS. 153 

and sobriety in the present, and provides a competence against the 
wants and contingencies of the future. 

This disposition of the mind is manifested in certain animals, as the 
bee and the squirrel, and is nature's provision against hunger and cold. 

b. The idea and the right of property arise primarily from the con- 
sciousness of a self. The feeling of ownership comes, however, from the 
fact of self-acquisition, and that, whether we have come into the possession 
of property by our own invention, or toil of body or mind, or by priority 
of possession, or inheritance from ancestors. In any case, the right of 
ownership is founded on an acquisition which is really or construc- 
tively our own. 

c. It is not, however, a right, but an affection, a capability of taking 
an interest in a right, and a disposition to exercise a right, of which we 
are now speaking ; and this disposition is manifested in all, from child- 
hood to old age. The right and possession of property constitute one 
of the leading objects of all human legislation and government. Next 
to the rights of person are those of property ; it is, therefore, an original 
and distinct susceptibility of our nature, having a pecuKar and exclusive 
function of its own. 

d. That this desire is legitimate is manifest from its having for its 
object the provision for the wants of ourselves and our dependants, and 
also from the declaration of Holy Writ, that " if any provide not for his 
own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, 
and is worse than an infidel." And the injunction, " not slothful in 
business, fervent in spirit," proves that the acquisition of property is not 
incompatible with the most earnest piety. The common judgment of 
mankind has in all time decided that honest success in acquiring 
property denotes skill, talent, and trustworthiness ; and the fact that so 
few comparatively gain wealth is evidence that the judgment of the 
world, that assigns to them so high a position, is, perhaps, not so erro- 
neous as is sometimes supposed. It is true that " the love of money is 
the root of all evil," but it is so only when that love is debased into 
avarice. It is true that it may lead to sordidness, oppression, and 
brutality ; but it is also true that under the guidance of reason and 
conscience it is the parent of many virtues, and the source of many 
comforts. The natural desire of property is neither virtuous nor vicious, 
when controlled by the rule of right. When not thus governed it is 
sinful. 

e. This desire in our mental economy is as proper and as necessary 
as is the desire of food ; for if the provision for our wants was left entirely 
to a sense of prudence or duty, life might easily become extinct through 
imprudence ; but nature has guarded this point by providing man both 
with an appetite for food, and an instinctive desire for property, sub- 

20 



154 AUTOLOGY. 

jecting these again to the control of reason and conscience. The 
selfish and diseased state of the affection of gainfulness is obvious. It 
becomes avariciousness, miserliness, meanness, oppression, extortion, and 
overreaching, in forms and degrees more or less inhuman and malignant. 
Gainfulness in its right state is only selfial. Avarice is selfish. 

Third Manifestation — Potentialness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Potentialness. Despoticalness. 

a. The desire of power, like all the other acquisitive affections, 
springs up in the soul from. the consciousness of its wants. It is the 
desire of the ability to gratify our other affections, to supply our wants, 
and to achieve our purposes. Power may consist in money, knowl- 
edge, office, social position, titles, talents, personal influence, political 
supremacy, or physical force, but in all it is the same. 

b. The desire 'of power is distinct from the objects for which it is 
desired. It may be and is sought for its own sake, and for the gratifi- 
cation which its mere possession and exercise afford. Indeed, the 
consciousness of power is at once the distinctest and the sublimest 
sentiment of the human mind. It is the hero in his highest estate of 
triumph ; the orator or inventor, the statesman, the poet, or the artist, in 
the hour of his proudest achievement. So also do we find it manifesting 
itself in childhood and in youth. It is in all the consciousness of 
efficiency, of capableness, and of manhood. 

c. The design of this affection seems to be the securing of the ability 
for self-sustenance and for self-defence ; and the power which this affec- 
tion gives is the basis of liberty and the security for all our rights. 
Eights without power are worth but little, as desires without the power 
of a right gratification are a torment. Power is also the ability " to do 
good and to communicate," which the apostle enjoins us to "forget 
not," as well as the ability to oppress and tyrannize. 

d. The desire of it for benevolent, useful, and moral ends is legiti- 
mate. To seek it for ambition, and for dominion, and despotism, 
is sin. Power, benevolently and usefully employed, ever commands 
respect ; but wielded for aggrandizement, tyranny, cruelty, and revenge, 
'it inspires hatred, and becomes iniquitous and devilish. Potentialness is 
selfial. Despoticalness is selfish. 

" O, it is excellent to have a giant's strength; 
But it is tyrannous to use it like a giant." 

Power, justice, generosity, and love, all joining hands in holy alliance, 
are the divinest symbols of authority in heaven or earth. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 155 



Foueth Manifestation — Appbobativeness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Approbativeness, Vain-gloeiousness, 

Love of Esteem, Obsequiousness, 

Love of Honob, Hypoceisy. 
Love of Distinction, 
Love of Fame. 

a. This affection is the basis of much that is excellent, elegant, polite, 
and refined in human life. It is one of the most powerful stimulants to 
ambition and to enterprise. The office of this affection among men 
seems to be the production of kindly intercourse, and of proper deport- 
ment, as well as restraint from wrong, and impulse to the right, by a 
regard for the opinions of each other. We here see the basis of the 
power of personal influences and of public opinion. This affection pro- 
duces a regard different from conscientiousness, benevolence, love, or 
fear. It gives a sensitiveness to the approbation or disapprobation of 
others. 

b. The necessity and the design of this affection is, that men may be 
reached without force or violence, in regard to some things in which 
they cannot be touched by conscience, kindness, love, or money. It is 
a kind extension of the field of suasive influences, and an adding to their 
power of another force, when their legitimate or higher motives are 
exhausted. Providence seems to have labored to provide every possible 
governing principle short of brute force ; and hence when the simple 
elements of justice, mercy, love, and conscience no longer sway men, 
public opinion sometimes will, and then force need not be applied. This 
affection is the basis of the power of public opinion, for it renders men 
susceptible to the stimulants of praise, and the shafts of ridicule, con- 
tempt, and scorn. Men may often thus be drawn into measures for the 
public good, who could not be moved thereto by any higher motive; and 
men are prevented from violence and crime by the shame of a public 
trial and an ignominious penalty, when neither the force of conscience 
nor the pain of punishment could do it. 

c. It is also a very humanizing affection ; for through it, good 
example, pure tastes, and refining influences may be brought to bear on 
the community. Indeed, all virtues, and all proprieties, and all rules of 
action, may, through the medium of this affection, be made to have a 
controlling power, when these same virtues and proprieties, for what 
they are in themselves, would have no influence, or be rejected alto- 
gether. It is this susceptibility that secures an exterior respect for 



156 AUTOLOGY. 

religion and morality, and protects the really religious from disturbance, 
and the moral and orderly from obstrusive improprieties. By this the 
violent may be kept in awe, and the vicious within the bounds of public 
decency. 

d. This affection makes its appearance at a very early date, and con- 
tinues until the close of life: childhood, youth' manhood, and age respond 
to it ; and the lower animals, as the horse, the elephant, and especially 
the dog, are alive and sensitive to it. It is perpetually appealed to by 
parents, teachers, rulers, and commanders, for the purpose of encour- 
aging, governing, rebuking, and correcting those under their charge. 

e. The sting of shame is the sharpest pang of which the heart is 
susceptible. Over some it is a rod of terror ; and to be without it is to 
be destitute of the most important element of good character. Public 
approbation is the life, and public disapprobation is the death, of the 
actor, singer, poet, artist, and orator. The fear of being dishonored is 
that which appeals most powerfully to the military chieftain, while the 
least breath of popular disfavor annihilates the man of fashionable honor. 
The soldier will die before he will be dishonored, while the mere pre- 
tender so much regards it that he will fight a duel for fear of being 
called a coward. Bonaparte, when a youth, being cashiered and con- 
fined for some small delinquency, pined and grieved so intensely that an 
officer interposed, and released him, to save him from worse conse- 
quences. That sense of honor which "feels a stain as a wound," and 
impels to deeds of bravery, has ordinarily its seat in this affection, 
though it may have higher elements in it ; but all inordinate ambition 
springs from nothing higher than this source. 

/. True honor is a love of the right ; this honor is a love of approba- 
tion. The desire of fame is ennobling, when it impels to the attain- 
ment of noble and virtuous ends ; but it is debasing when it leads to mere 
distinction in worthless pursuits. The buffoon, the mountebank, the 
wag, seek only a low notoriety, and will be profane or vile for the sake 
of attaining this end. This affection is also the seat of vanity and vain 
displajr, and is the very throne of fashion. From a regard for what 
others will say, from a fear of appearing singular, uncourtly, or as not 
belonging to good society, the devotee of fashion submits to all her 
caprices, and yields to all her exactions. 

g. The tyranny of fashion is complete, and its sole power lies in its 
appeal to this susceptibilit}' to approbation. It may exact any sum, 
require any observance, and impose any monstrosity, no matter how 
great, how absurd, or how erroneous. Neither expense, health, morals, 
nor religion, is any barrier to its encroachments ; and when fashion 
commands a wicked and hurtful observance or mode, it has untold 
power for evil. A corrupt public opinion is the most dreadful and ma- 



THE AFFECTIONS. 157 

lignant engine of mischief in the universe. It is Satan's mightiest 
power. 

h. Approbativeness is in itself one of the noblest desires, yet in its 
simple and normal state it has no moral character, — it is purely selfial. 
But while the desire of esteem and of approbation is in itself not wrong, 
nor evil, yet in its perverted state it is selfish, and only selfish, and 
that continually. In this form it becomes vanity, vain-gloriousness, ob- 
sequiousness, sycophancy, hypocrisy, and baseness. These are the 
lowest forms in which the love of approbation shows itself, and at this 
stage it holds humanity in the most degrading servitude. From all 
these manifestations it clearly appears that approbativeness, or the love 
of esteem and of approbation, is a distinct and original susceptibility of 
the mind ; selfial or selfish, virtuous or vicious, according to its exer- 
cise ; otherwise of no moral character. 

Fifth Manifestation — Praiseworthiness. 

Selfial State. Selfish Stale. 

Praiseworthiness, Individual Ambition, 

Desire of true Greatness, Magisterialness. 

Meritoriousness, Pride, Rivalry, 

Emulation, Envy, Jealousy, 

Aspiringness. Presumption. 

a. The office of this affection is to secure development and perfect- 
ness of body and of mind, in all branches of liberal art and culture. It 
is manifestly the source* of that restlessness and dissatisfaction which 
ever impel man to progress, and are planted by the Creator to secure 
advancement in all that makes up intellectual and moral growth. One 
of the most peculiarly human traits is this constant desire and longing 
after something beyond what is enjoyed at the present. 

b. So strong is this aspiration that it has been regarded as an in- 
stinctive evidence of man's imperishableness, and an earnest of his 
immortality. Assuredly, as the impulse to that endless development by 
which man is to be transformed into the likeness of God, it has a most 
sublime and holy office, and ranks the highest of all the desires. 

c. It is this that goes beyond the mere love of knowledge, of pos- 
session or power ; as such it seeks excellence for its own sake. It seeks 
excellence in all things. It is almost religion, yet not, for it is not self- 
forgetting ; it is self-forgetting only as an advantageous way of self- 
remembering. In its highest and purest form it seeks that which is 
excellent, not as compared with what another may be, or possess, but 
with what is excellent in itself, and as compared with what is already 
possessed. The true idea of excellence arises from comparing the real 



158 AUTOLOGY. 

with the ideal, the actual with the possible ; and the true love of excel- 
lence is ever seeking to realize the ideal. The consideration of this will 
come up more properly under the head of the iEsthetical Affections, to 
which it belongs. 

d. Here we are concerned rather with what is known as emulation ; 
the desire of mastery of the excellence that gives recognized and ad- 
vantageous supremacy as compared with others. This is a lower order 
of sentiment than the love of true excellence, which is holiness ; or of 
ideal excellence, which is art ; both of which will be considered respec- 
tively in their proper places. The love of mastery is in itself not evil, 
though it may easily become so. It easily becomes unkindly and de- 
moralizing in its tendency. Yet in its right state it is only wholesome 
competition, and the parent of all improvement. A wholesome competi- 
tion stimulates the individual to effort, and protects the community from 
the dominion of an established and precedented inferiority ; and this 
love of mastery, of praiseworthiness, is healthful, and seems as a bracing 
atmosphere to all forms of human pursuit. 

e. When, however, this affection becomes, as it it does in its selfish 
state, mere ambition and rivalry, then its tendency is but little to good, 
and often to an unmixed evil. The standard of excellence is lowered, 
success becomes the measure of merit, the heart is filled with selfish- 
ness, and jealousy and envy come to be pervading. Jealousy is the 
foe of the anticipated superiority of a rival. Envy is a malign feeling 
that desires the depreciation and injury of a rival who has already sur- 
passed us in competition. Ambition is an inordinate desire for mastery. 
Rivalry is an unscrupulous desire to surpass a competitor. And all these 
are a perversion of the affection whose office it is to desire real excel- 
lence for what it is in itself, and which was planted by the Creator for 
noble purposes. 

/. To desire the physical excellence of strength, agility, or beauty, 
to desire intellectual superiority, either in natural endowments or in 
learned attainments, are in themselves noble sentiments, though not 
morally good or bad. To desire moral excellence implies an exercise 
both of the conscience and of the will, and has, therefore, a moral 
character ; for to desire the right is to be conformed to the right, and 
this is religion, and as such will be elsewhere treated. The love of 
true excellence, when it regards the whole character, would seem to be 
true religion, for it is no less than a love of God, and a desire to be like 
Him ; so, of course, a desire of evil is sinful, and sin itself. Emulation 
in its best estate of simply desiring to equal another, is not a sin, though 
we can hardly desire to surpass another, without some detriment to him. 
Jealousy may sometimes be only a righteous vigilance against sin and 
wrong, as when it is said, that a free people are "jealous of their liber- 



THE AFFECTIONS. 159 

ties," and when it is said, " I, the Lord thy God, am a jealous God;" 
" mj' glory will I not give to another ; " but in these cases it has rather 
a metaphorical meaning, or is used by way of emphasis or of intentional 
exaggeration, in order more deeply to impress the real truth. 

g. Jealousy, in its own proper nature, is a suspiciousness of another's 
success, and a malicious feeling towards it. Envy is jealousy matured, 
thus revealing what is the true nature of jealousy. They thus both be- 
come a feeling of ill-will towards a fellow-being, who possesses any ad- 
vantage over us in talent, property, influence, or position, and are the 
most hateful and unworthy of human passions. They become so can- 
kered with a malicious selfishness, that they can see no good in a rival, 
nor feel any possible complacency towards him in any respect. They 
descend rapidly into hate, and come to take a delight in any evil or mis- 
fortune that may befall a rival, regarding him as the worst enemy. The 
man who is jealous or envious looks upon every excellence in a rival as 
a virtue stolen from himself, and every success of a rival as a personal 
assault and wrong, and hence fancies himself as only vindicating his 
own rights while he is persecuting his rival, and believes himself to be 
only making his own defence when he is maliciously destroying the 
one who has outstripped him. 

h. The existence of this affection, both in its legitimate and in its per- 
verted forms, is abundantly manifested in all classes of individuals. In 
its highest form the love of excellence is found in a few of the great 
and the good ; but in its common form of emulation, and jealousy, and 
envy, it may be found everywhere, from the school-boy who prides him- 
self on the best marbles, or the little girl who delights in the largest 
doll, to the most eminent men in any calling in life. Both the worthy 
ami the unworthy have their desire of superiority. The gamester, the 
sportsman, the prize-fighter, with their implements and animals, and 
feats of skill and strength ; the competitor at the bar, the politician and 
the legislator; the farmer with his grains or stock, the manufacturer with 
his wares and machines; in short, all classes of persons, in all the various 
pursuits of man, show this same desire for mastery and superiority. In 
its pure form the love of excellence is, alas ! seldom seen. In the form 
of honest competition it is not frequent ; but its perversions none the 
less certainly reveal its existence. 

i. The pleasure of feeling mastery and exercising superiority is so 
great that some are glad to gratify it over brutes, as horses and dogs. 
Hunters and stage-drivers are notorious for this feeling in relation to 
their brutes ; and many men discard the companionship of their equals, 
and go down to the ignorant and the low to find dominion and an 
empire, on the principle that it is "better to reign in hell than serve in 
heaven; " and this expression shows the desperation of the desire for 



160 AUTOLOGY-. 

superiority. Some men will be wicked and impious for the sake of a 
"bad eminence " over other wicked men ; and many desire the degrada- 
tion, of the lowly in order that they may feel conscious of superiority 
over them. Thus is praise worthiness, the love of superiority, in its nor- 
mal state, selfial, and in its abnormal state selfish ' % and in the one or 
the other condition it is everywhere to be found. 

OEDER I. INDIVIDUAL AFFECTIONS. 

Class Fourth. Self-annunctative Affections. 

a. Self-annunciativeness, in its legitimate office, manifests itself in the 
assertion of the rights of being; viz., the rights of person, property, and 
proprietorship. It insists on the legitimate demarcation between the 
meum and the tuum, and demands for itself the rights of " life, liberty, 
and fhe pursuit of happiness." 

b. The office of this affection is to give an interest in one's self. It 
is the basis of all true self-love, self-reliance, self-respect, dignity, au- 
thority, proprietorship, and magnanimity. It differs from mere self-con- 
sciousness, in that it is a sensibility of the self with regard to itself, not 
the bare consciousness that it is a self. 

c. In its normal condition it is a sensibility to our own individual^ 7 , 
and a disposition to its manifestation. In this respect it is the disposi- 
tion to avow personal rights, authority, and opinions ; to direct action to. 
an end and gain a personal result. It is thus an element not only of 
being, but of well-being, and essential to effective activity. 

d. Self-assertion, within its proper limits, is of the essence of all man- 
liness ; it is the source of all self-development and personal achieving. 
To assert one's own manhood and proprietorship is to take the ground 
of all true liberty and of all true personal responsibility. Proprietor- 
ship, and not power, is the basis of manhood, and responsibility, and 
rights. 

e. The assertion, therefore, of proprietorship is the assertion of liberty, 
the assertion of rights, and the acknowledging of responsibility. A pro- 
prietor is always responsible, no matter what may be the state of his 
proprietorship. This proprietorship is the feeling of individuality ; that 
is, the sensibility to individuality. 

/. As the essential activity and the essential intelligence give, in their 
combined state, the consciousness of essential individuality ; and as this 
individuality, recombined with its original constituents, gives law ; and 
this again, recombined, gives liberty ; and all recombined, as five separate 
elements, give will, as a self-conscious, free force ; and as in this case 
there is the consciousness of a self, as a free will, a free effective force, — 



THE AFFECTIONS. 161 

so in the' case of this affection there is a consciousness of a sensibility 
to the fact, the state, and the action of this free self which is a will and 
a force to act. Self and selfialness, will and wilfulness, mark the dis- 
tinctions here sought to be given. 

g. Egoism, or self-assertiveness, is the interest which the ego feels in 
the ego, the self in the self. The disposition, therefore, to self-assertion 
is the feeling of manhood, proprietorship, responsibility, self-love, self- 
respect, and is the basis of all independence, magnaminity, and worth. To 
assert one's self is simply to be, and claim to be, a man, answerable and 
responsible for his own manhood, and ready to preserve, promote, de- 
fend, and acquit himself among his fellow-men. It is thus an element of 
well-being, and essential to effective activity. . 

h. But as every affection of our nature is liable to perversion, and is, 
in fact, actually in a state more or less perverted, so this affection has its 
abuses. Self-annunciation may become egotism, assurance, pride, 
haughtiness, imperiousness, wilfulness, obstinacy, leading to acts of 
tyranny, oppression, and cruelty. 

i. Pride is a disposition to think more highly of ourselves than we 
ought to think, and to isolate ourselves from others, shutting up our 
sympathies in a sordid self-seeking and self-esteem. Pride is cold, and 
solemn, and unsocial, and self-absorbed, while vanity is alive to the opin- 
ions of others, and seeks to gain approbation, or excite envy or wonder. 

j. A just self-estimation is the true basis of all self-worthiness, honor, 
and magnanimity. The particular things for which we respect ourselves 
will vary with time and relations, but the ground and fact of a disposi- 
tion to respect ourselves is the same in all. This disposition is a simple, 
uncompounded fact, existing in all minds in some form, either perverted 
or true: 

k. It does not depend on any other affection, power, or qualification 
of the mind, but often exists most prominently where the grounds for it 
are the least. It demamds neither capacity, character, nor position, for 
its existence or support ; and in its perverted form, in which it is oftenest 
seen, and most felt, it seems to show its unmixed character most dis- 
tinctly. 

I. Pride is one of the chief sins of men ; "by that sin fell the angels," 
nor does any passion oftener pervert our judgment or mislead our lives. 
Says Pope, — 

" What the weak head with strongest bias rules 
Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools." 

m. Yet the disposition to prefer our own esteem above that of others 
is the source of all true self-respect and self-reliance. Even the appro- 
bation of conscience will fail, without the co-operation of this faculty, 
to give us self-respect. 
21 



162 AUTOLOGY. 

" One self-approving hour whole years outweighs 
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas." 

n. This affection also, in its true form, becomes the foundation of all 
ability to hold a position of authority, and give direction to the lives 
and- actions of our fellow-men. It is a controlling 1 element in a com- 
mander, governor, or overseer; it gives the spirit of authority, the bear- 
ing of command. 

o. So also, is it the source of true courage, fortitude, and mag- 
nanimity. The truly proud man is too great to be mean, too proud to be 
vain, too self reliant to fear, or to stoop to low advantages. A truly proud 
man feels that he can afford to be just to a foe, and generous to an 
enemy, though he ma3 r do neither ; and while a love of approbation may 
lead us .to be careful of our reputation, and sensitive about some code 
of honor, when our deeds are known and our conduct is public, a true 
self-respect will lead us to set at nought all these things, whether our 
conduct be known or not ; and though it may not impel us to act con- 
scientiously or nobly, it will lead us to make our own rule of action, and 
prefer our own good opinion to that of others. 

p. This affection is also a strong resource against calamity, even in 
its perverted state. The struggle of pride, in its greatness and self- 
reliance, is given in that passage in "Paradise Lost," where it is said 
of the arch-fiend, — 

"Thrice he essayed to speak, and thrice, in spite 
Of pride, tears such as angels weep gushed forth." 

q. Thus this self-annunciative affection in its true state is the source 
of self-respect, authoritativeness, firmness, self-reliance, fortitude, and 
magnanimity, and leads to worthy action ; while in its depra'ved state it is 
pride, arrogance, and imperiousness, leading to selfishness and oppression. 

r. In its pure state it gives to an unfallen being the air of a serene 
nobleness, while in its perversion it gives to a fallen soul the spirit of 
arrogance and the aspect of scorn. It becomes thus a large, sad ele- 
ment in the heart of fallen man, and a rebellious subject in the empire 
of the will. These affections have the following manifestations, viz.: — ■ 

Class Fourth. Self-annunciative Affections. 

Manifestations. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

1. Self-assertion. Egotism, 

Arrogance, Tyranny. 

2. Self-reliance. Fool-hardiness, Pusillanimity. 

3. Firmness. Obstinacy. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 163 





Selfial Stale. 


Sel/ish State. 


4. 


Self-respect. 


Pride, Haughtiness. «j 


5. 


Dignity. 


Vanity, Pompousness, Parade. 


6. 


Authority. 


Imperiousness, Wilfulness. 


7. 


Proprietorship. 


Purse-pride, Assumingness. 


8. 


Magnanimity. 


Presumption. 


9. 


Politeness. 


Patronizingness, 
Flattery, Duplicity. 


These 


sum up a 


These sum up a 




Gentleman. 


Boor and a Monster. 



First Manifestation — • Self-assertion. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Self-assertion. Egotism. 

a. The first manifestation of the self-annunciative affections is self- 
assertion, which is the normal and selfial state, and egotism, which is 
its abnormal and selfish state. 

6. Self-assertion is the simple expression of conscious existence, and 
of the rights that belong thereto. It is putting forth the claims of man- 
hood and proprietorship, and demanding for them the rights of person, 
property, and also of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is 
simple self-recognition and self-annunciation. 

c. Every man must assert his own claims to manhood and its rights, 
and take, and defend, and provide for that^manhood. ( It will not suffer 
itself to be put down or silenced. It stands opposed to obtrusiveness 
and egotism, which impose themselves upon others, and are regardless 
of their rights. Egotism is inordinate self-consciousness ; self-assertion 
only claims its own. Obtrusiveness forces itself into positions where it 
has no right ; self-assertion demands, contends for, defends, and main- 
tains its own individuality and its own rights. 

d. It is the next aggressive form of self-love after self-sustentation, 
defence, and acquisition. It asserts its claims as the positive manifesta- 
tion of that self-love which is the original and instinctive law of life, and 
manifests that natural interest in our own being and personality which 
leads us to appreciate it, care for it, preserve it, and use it for legitimate 
purposes. 

Second, Manifestation — Self-reliance. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Self-reliance. Fool-hardiness, 

Pusillanimity. 



164 AUTOLOGY. 

a. Self-reliance is that consciousness of our own individual power, and 
distinct individuality that disposes us to . provide for, protect and 
defend ourselves, in undefiant yet firm independence. It gives decision 
and manliness to the whole character, and stands opposed at once to 
pusillanimity on the one hand, and fool-hardiness on the other. 

Third Manifestation — Firmness. 

Selfial State. Selfish Slate. 

Firmness. Obstinacy. 

a. Firmness is scarcely distinguishable from self-reliance ; yet it is 
the property of the mind that gives steadiness .of aim, persistence of 
effort, and stability of character. It enters largely into all the sterner 
virtues, and contributes to their greatness and strength. It is in- 
dispensable to any great achievement. 

b. It sustains the soldier in battle and the martyr at the stake. It 
stands by the reformer in his hard combat and long waiting, and keeps 
him steadfast until the evil day is past, and truth and righteousness are 
triumphant. So, on the other hand, when wedded to alow conservatism, 
and joined to old prejudice, this disposition is a hinderance to all 
progress and all reform. Jt becomes at length mere opinionativeness, 
impracticability, and obstinacy. 

Fourth Manifestation — Self-respect. 

Selfial Stale. Selfish State. 

Self-respect. Pride, Haughtiness. 

* 

a. Self-respect is such a regard fbr a man's own opinions, position, 
and personality, as will not allow him to compromise them or himself by 
any unworthy act, nor allow any one else to trifle with, trample upon; 
or disregard them. It stands opposed to mere pride of opinion or per- 
son, and to all haughtiness of manner, and is simply the consciousness 
of what is due from any man to his own manhood. 

Fifth Manifestation — Dignity. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Dignity. Vanity, Parade. 

a. Dignity is the bearing of one who, conscious that he has an honest 
self-respect, feels honestly able and willing to respect others ; and that, 



THE AFFECTIONS. 165 

in no patronizing spirit, but in an intelligent and honest recognition of 
their rights and merits. 

b. The mingling of honest self-respect and honest respect for others 
affords the basis of all true dignity. This dignity stands opposed to all 
vanity, all pompousness and love of parade, and all wearing of titles 
that are pretentious, and all airs that are put on for effect and show. 

Sixth Manifestation — Authority. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Authority. Arrogance. 

Authority is the natural expression of individuality in avowing it- 
self, and in asserting its own prerogative, and is a first element of man- 
hood. It is a feeling of the legitimate and natural kingship of the 
human soul over itself and its own destinies. Every man is a sovereign 
and a self-governor, a man in authority over himself. It stands all 
opposed to arrogance towards others, and wilfulness in ourselves ; it is 
simply self-ruling. 

Seventh Manifestation — Proprietorship. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Proprietorship. Purse-pride, Assumingness. 

a. Proprietorship is the original consciousness of possession, owner- 
ship, property, and rights of possession. It is the feeling of every 
human being that he has a right to himself, to his own person, and to 
that which by his exertion of mind or body he has acquired. 

b. This is claimed in the very assertion of self and individuality, and 
is a first thing in manhood, the basis of all rights and all responsibility, 
and lies, as a constituent of manhood, in the very nature of liberty and 
of being itself. It stands opposed to all assumption and pride of purse, 
and all impious disregard of God, all profane denial of dependence upon 
him, and all unhallowed assumption of prerogative in our own rights, and 
in scorn of God's being or authority. 

Eighth Manifestation — Magnanimity. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Magnanimity. Presumption, Imperiousness. 

a. This affection grows out of all the preceding ones, and is such a 
mingling of self-love, self-reliance, self-respect, dignity, authority, and 



166 AUTOLOGY, 

proprietorship, as to give that true greatness of soul which we call mag- 
nanimity. It is such a consciousness of the possession of all these things, 
as raises the soul above selfish anxieties, and disposes it to justice and 
generosity to others. 

b. This property stands opposed to all presumption, to all that 
opposeth and exalteth itself against God, on the one hand, and to all 
indifference and haughtiness towards men, on the other. It is true 
greatness of soul. And this leads, lastly, to the ninth manifestation. 

Ninth Manifestation — Politeness. 

Selfial State, Selfish State. 

Politeness. Patronizingness, 

Flattery, Duplicity. 

a. True politeness is the blossom of all these preceding manifesta- 
tions. It has self-assertion, self-reliance, self-respect, dignity, authority, 
proprietorship, and magnanimity ; these combined and attempered to- 
gether give true politeness. 

b. This politeness stands opposed to all patronizing, all flattery, all 
duplicity, and is simply the generous and general justice of a magnani- 
mous soul towards any other fellow-being. 

c. This completes the order of Individual Affections, with its several 
classes and various manifestations ; and after considering them all 
through in their respective states, and summing them all up, we find on 
the selfial side this result, as the combination of all nature's good quali- 
ties, viz , a nature's nobleman, a prince and gentleman by right of crea- 
tion. And on the selfish side we find, as the sum total of all the 
perversions of nature, this result, viz., a nature's monster. 

d. The gentleman thus produced is an original Adam, and the monster 
is a Cain. The high Christian elements are not included in the one, 
though a perfect fiend is found in the other. The one is man upright, 
in the original image of God ; the other, a fallen and depraved spirit. 

ORDER II. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Social Affections. Gregariousness: 

They are divided into three classes, viz., — 

Class First. 
Marital Affections. Animal Passions. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 16t 

Class Second. 
Selfial State Selfish State. 

Kindred Affections. Tribal Feeling. 

Class Third. 
Amical Affections. Social Caste. 

These sum up These sum up 

A Society, Government. A Herd, Feudalism. 

a. The Social Affections are the seeoud order of determinate affec- 
tions, and are derived from the determination of all the six elemental 
affections into and through trustfulness, whence they flow out through 
the individual affections, and beyond them into a body by themselves ; 
here they form a distinct body, yet partake of all of which they are 
compounded and with which they have mingled. 

b. As the first order of determinate affections is a determination of 
all the elemental affections through desirefulness, — which is the first ele- 
mental affection, — so is the second order of determinate affections a 
determination of all the elemental affections through trustfulness, which 
is the second elemental affection. But as the Individual Affections 
arise more especially out of Desirefulness, and take its characteristics, 
so do the Social Affections arise more especially out of Trustfulness, and 
take its characteristics. 

c. It must here be carefully noted that each successive order of de- 
terminate affections is formed by three successive and connected move- 
ments. 

First. By the concentration for the time being of all the elemental 
affections into that one from which such determinate order is formed, 
and to which it corresponds. 

Second. By the flowing out of this elemental affection, in which all 
the rest are so concentred, through all the intervening orders of deter- 
minate affections, and the mingling with them ; and 
' Third. By flowing over and beyond them into a distinct body by 
themselves, and there dividing and branching into classes and manifes- 
tations. 

d. Thus the social order of affections is formed by the concentration 
of all the elemental affections, viz., desirefulness, trustfulness, hopeful- 
ness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness, into the element 
of trustfulness, as the mould and channel of the whole : this is the first 
movement. Then by the flowing out of all these from trustfulness, 
through the order and all the classes and manifestations of Individual 
Affections, and mingling and blending with them : this is the second 



168 AUTOLOGY. 

movement. And then by flowing- over and beyond all the classes and 
manifestations of the order of Individual Affections into a distinct body 
by themselves, and then dividing into classes and manifestations of 
their own : this is the last and completing movement by. which this 
order of determinate affections is foimed. 

e. As the elemental affection of trustfulness comes naturally after 
desirefulness, so also do the Social affections, as a determinate order, 
come naturally after the Individual affections as a determinate order ; 
and as each elemental affection combines in itself all the elemental affec- 
tions that precede it, so does each successive order of determinate 
affections combine in itself not only all the elemental affections, but 
also all the orders of determinate affections that precede it. Each order 
of determinate affections is, therefore, a combination, first, of all the ele- 
mental affections, and then of all the orders of determinate affections 
that precede it, concentred in itself, and thirdly, and most especially, 
it is a growth and development peculiar and individual, having its own 
life and characteristics, which spring out of, rise above, and are distinct 
from, all other affections. 

f. We have, therefore, the Social Affections standing over against, 
corresponding to, and arising out of the elemental affection of Trustful- 
ness ; and what is here said of the mode, the relation, position, and de- 
pendence of this order of affections will be found true, in like manner, 
of all the succeeding orders of determinate affections. The social affec- 
tions are here confined to the relations of consanguinity and personal 
friendship, leaving their more expanded exercises to the other and suc- 
ceeding orders of affections. Their office will appear in the several 
classes into which they are divided. The first step of ascent above 
individuality is sociality ; and this brings us to the first class of social 
affections. 

Class First. Marital Affections. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Marital Affections. Animal Passions. 

a. When God created man in Eden, He said, "It is not good that the 
man should be alone ; I will make him a help meet for him." So made 
he a woman, and brought her unto the man, and Adam said, "This is 
now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh ; she shall be called woman, 
because she was taken out of man. Therefore shall a man leave his 
father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife ; and they shall be 
one flesh." " So God created man in his own image, in the image of 
God created he him ; male and female created he them. And God 
blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and 
replenish the earth and subdue it." 



THE AFFECTIONS. - 169 

b. These scriptures give the full intent and office of the marital 
affection. In it mind and matter, spirit and nature, meet and mingle. 
Sensation is the form of spirit, and the embodiment of the mind's inten- 
tion. Mind and matter here blend and co-operate, the last being only 
the form of the first, as body to soul. 

c. Thus the social affections, like the individual, have their roots in 
an appetite. As the appetite for food, called hunger, lies at the basis 
of all individual affections, so also physical appetite lies at the basis of 
all social affections, albeit the spirit permeates all. 

d. The social affections have for their office our duties to our fellow- 
beings, and underlie all our social relations. Not one of. all our duties 
is left to mere reason, prudence, or principle, but each is supplied with 
an affection, impelling to its performance, when that affection is unper- 
verted or undiseased. 

e. Man is largely a social being ; his faculties are communicative, 
and his affections are sympathetic, and his education and superiority are 
promoted by a community of knowledge, an interchange of thought, 
and a mingling in social intercourse. By comparing observations and 
opinions, errors are corrected and knowledge increased ; and by the 
attrition of personal intercourse and the intercommunication of ideas,' 
man becomes socialized in habits, and refined in manners. 

f. Society is therefore both a natural want and a natural educator; 
and the feeling of this want is deep in man's nature. Without society, 
man pines in solitude, shrivels in his affections, and dwarfs in intellect. 
Man's power, as well as his happiness, comes from his association ; alone 
he is more feeble than many of the brute creation. He would be un- 
able alone to defend or long sustain himself; but by associated strength 
and intelligence he becomes lord of this lower world. 

g. Communion and sympathy with his kind are a source alike of 
development, power, and enjoyment ; and nature has laid the foundation 
for society alike in the wants of our physical, intellectual, and moral 
nature. Man's intellect, and affections, and .conscience, all find the legit- 
imate field for their action and development only in society. 

h. All that is pure and tender in the affections, all that is exalted in 
intellectual attainment, all that is divine in the tone and decisions of the 
conscience, man attains by his relations and intercourse with society. 
The treasures of knowledge, the institutions of learning, the organiza- 
tions of government, the courts of law, the customs of society, the prin- 
ciples of religion, all these grow out of man's social relations, and exist 
only because man has a social nature. 

i. The deepest and firmest foundation-stone of the social temple, 
upon which the whole structure rests, is the marital affection : we 
therefore place it first in this order of the affections, as we did animal 
22 



110 AUTOLOGY. 

hunger in the order of the individual affections. In their selfial form the 
marital affections are "very good," as God made them; only when per- 
verted are they sinful. They are respectively as follows : — 

Class First. Marital Affections. 
Manifestations. 
Selfial State. Selfish Stale. 

1. Mutual Interest of the Sexes. Fleshly Lusts. 

2. Susceptibility to physical Beauty Sensualism. 

in Man or Woman respectively. 

3. Appreciation of Mental and Mor- Uxoriousness, 

al Qualities. Infatuation, 



1) 



OTARDISM. 

These lead to and constitute These lead to 

Love, Marriage and Home. Licentiousness, 

Concubinage, 
The Harem. 

First Manifestation. 
Mutual Interest of the Sexes, Fleshly Lusts. 

a. The marital affections are the mutual interests of the sexes in each 
other. In this God has secured the succession of the generations of 
men, so that the race shall not become extinct, just as in the appetite 
for food he has defended the race from extinction by starvation ; and 
great as are the vices, the diseases, degradation, and crimes which these 
appetites and desires render possible, and to which they have in all ages 
been perverted, yet God has shown, by creating them and making them 
a part of his economy, that the interests which they are necessary to 
guard are more important and vital to the well-being of the race, than 
the vices to which they are perverted are detrimental and destructive 
to it; hence he has adopted them as part of his system' of things, and 
made the preservation of life and the preservation of the race depend 
upon them. 

b. God has divided the parental office between the father and the 
mother, thus enlarging the social basis by resting' it equally upon two 
individuals, and making it, in both, a social affection and a physical want. 
The marital affection is the first social feeling, and, though springing 
from both a physical and a social want is yet not all of these alone. 

c. The mutual affection of the sexes arises also from a susceptibility 
to beauty ; and this brings us to the 



THE AFFECTIONS. 171 

Second Manifestation. 
Selfial Slate. Selfish Slate. 

A Susceptibility to physical Beauty • A prurient Sensuality." 

in Man or Woman respectively. 

a. Female beauty has a perpetual charm for man ; to him truly this 

"Thing of beauty is a joy forever;" 
And nothing can be to him lovelier than is 

" The light of a dark eye in woman." 
Of his bride lost in death by the hand of a murderer, the lamenting 
Giaour says, — 

" She was a form of life and light 
That, seen, became a part of sight, 
And rose where'er I turned mine eye 
The morning star of memory." 

b. While on the other hand, woman admires the form 

•' Where every god did seem to set his seal 
To give the world assurance of a man." 

c. Of the human figure, Milton says, speaking of the first pair in 
Paradise, — 

"Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, 
Godlike erect, with native honor clad, 
In naked majesty seemed lords of all, 
Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed; 
For contemplation he and valor formed, 
For softness she and sweet attractive grace; 
His fair large front and eye sublime declared 
Absolute rule ; and Hyacinthine locks 
Round from his parted forelock manly hung 
Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad; 
She as a veil down to the slender waist 
Her unadorned golden tresses wore, 
Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved, 
As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied 
Subjection, but required with gentle sway, 
And by her yielded, by him best received, 
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, 
And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay." 

d. This original susceptibility to beauty of form and figure, complex- 
ion, expression and bearing, is, in its normal and selfial state, part of man's 
nature, and " very good." In its perverted and selfish state it becomes- 
a pruriency and a sensuality, which lead only to degradation and vice. 

Third Manifestation. 
■Selfial State. Selfish Slate. 

An Appreciation of Mental and Uxoriousness, Infatuation, 

Moral Qualities. Dotardism. 



172 AUTOLOGY. 

a. Here the marital affection springs from sociality of thought, a 
sympathy of sentiment, a geniality of character, tastes, and pursuits, 
and extends to the highest properties of the intellectual and moral nature, 
as well as to the appetites of mere physical existence. 

b. Love is a passion of the whole mind, which finds its gratification 
in the entire individuality of its object, and seeks the possession of it ; 
and the flowing together of these two rills of mutual affection forms the 
great stream of social life. 

c. The desire of companionship is so strong in man, that he will make 
to himself friends of brute creatures or inanimate objects, if he has none 
of his fellow-beings with whom to associate. , 

d. This manifestation, good in itself, has its excess and mischief in 
vile companionship, in uxoriousness and infatuation, and the imbecility of 
the dotard. And all these manifestations, in their right, normal, and self- 
ial state, sum up and produce love, genuine love, marriage, honorable 
marriage, and the home of husband, wife, and children. In their evil, 
selfish, and sinful state, these affections produce licentiousness, concu- 
binage, and the harem. 

ORDEH II. THE SOCIAL AFFECTIONS. 

Class Second. Kindred Affections. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Kindred Affections. Tribal Feeling. 

a. This class of affections has the three following 

Manifestations. 

1. Parental Affection. Indulgence. 

2. Filial Affection. Pride of Blood, Aristocracy. 

3. Fraternal Affection. The Clan Spirit. 

This sums up This sums up 

The Family Relation. The Tribe. 

b. The kindred affections are strong and kindly. Their influence 
and effect are humane and benevolent in the sphere in which they move. 
They give a quicker interest and a livelier sympathy in-human relations, 
and contribute to humanizing the otherwise barbarous intercourse of men. 

c We' identify ourselves with our family and kindred, make their 
cares our cares, their interests our interests. We feel their joy and 
sorrow, honor and dishonor, their promotion and their failure ; when 
they prosper we are glad, and when they are unfortunate we share their 



THE AFFECTIONS. 173 

distress. When they are sick we mourn ; when they are wounded 
we bleed ; when they are assailed, we succor them ; and when they are 
in danger we rally for their defence, not counting our life, dear. 

d. Now, all this is well, very good ; yet this feeling of kindred affec- 
tion may become a vice and a mischief. It may degenerate into mere 
tribal feeling and a narrow and sordid clannishness. It may come to 
be a mere selfish indulgence and pride, leading to a disregard of all 
worth, justice, and benevolence. 

e. When so, it is the fruitful source of feuds, and strifes, and civil 
wars. While the kindred affections are pure and almost benevolent, the 
tribal feeling is often only selfish. The kindred affections are confined 
to the ties of consanguinity, and appear first in the parental affections. 

/. This affection we find in the selfial and selfish states, as follows : — 

First Manifestation — Parental Affection. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Parental Affection. Parental Indulgence. 

a. This affection is the natural and spontaneous love of parents for 
their offspring ; its design is to secure the sustenance, protection, and 
education of the young during infancy and youth, in order to prepare 
them for the cares and duties of their own life. 

b. It is, perhaps, more purely unselfish than the marital affection, 
and usually manifests itself most strongly in the mother. A mother's 
affection for her child is nature's religion. It is nearer to pure ethical 
love than any other natural sentiment of the heart. It is nature going 
out from herself in a most natural and spontaneous unselfishness ; and 
certainly if it is not in itself a moral virtue, it is nature's nearest sem- 
blance thereto. Assuredly disinterested benevolence and unselfishness 
cannot have a more striking suggestion of themselves than this ; and 
it would seem that in the maternal heart all benevolent institutions must 
have had their origin. God seems here to have given to men the nat- 
ural impulse to all benevolence. 

c. But this affection may become an infirmity and a sin. When it 
comes to be the mere fondness of parental affection, the mere indulgence 
of a doting infatuation, the irresolute lenience of a weak-hearted kind- 
ness, then is it a sin and a wrong which involves the parent in guilt, 
and the child in wilfulness and ungovernable passions, and works only 
mischief and sin. 

Second Manifestation — Filial Affections. 
Selfial State. • Selfish State. 

Filial Affection. Pride of* Blood, Aristocracy. 



IU AUTOLOGY. 

a. This is a branch springing from the same original stock. The 
love of children for their parents is the reflex influence of the love of 
parents for their children. 

b. It is not so strong as the former, and needs support and enlarge- 
ment from other sources. Over and above the native instinct it is 
greatl} r strengthened by a sense of obligation and gratitude, and is 
enhanced greatly by a respect for the intelligence, social position, or 
moral worth of the parents. 

c. And here it is exceedingly liable to run into family pride, pride of 
blood and aristocracy, which work invidious distinctions, and produce 
absurd pretensions, greatly . damaging to those who hold them, and 
creating enmity in the hearts of others. Filial affection, however, in 
its normal and purely selfial state, is an original sentiment in the human 
heart, right and good. 

Third Manifestation — Fraternal Affections. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Fraternal Affection. The Clan Spirit. 

a. This is the family feeling which, deviating from the direct line of 
parent and child, extends in a lateral direction ; embracing, first, the 
immediate family, it reaches to the wLole extent of a tribe, clan, race, 
or nation. It fixes on the paternal home, and then attaches to the fire- 
side, the farm, the neighborhood, the country; hence what was mere' 
fraternity becomes clanship, and then, if rightly directed, as we shall 
hereafter see, it becomes patriotism and philanthropy. 

b. The mere family feeling is, however, often contracting, 'the clan- 
nish feeling illiberal, and the tribal interest invidious. Yet, in its pure 
state, the love of brother for brother, sister for sister, and of brother 
and sister, is second only to the love of a mother for a child. 

c. To no lover are the delicate virtues of a maiden so divine as to 
her own brother. Nor is the manly worth of a brother ever so highly 
appreciated as by a sister, while these relations are not infringed upon 
by any others. He is my brother ; she is my sister ; the same blood is 
in our veins ; these are the divinest recognitions of humanity. 

d. This, in its pure state, is almost a religious sentiment ; to be 
without it is to be justly thought unnatural, and wanting in the hu- 
mane properties of the heart. The kindred affections as a whole, in 
their normal and selfial state, sum themselves up in the family relations 
with all their benign influences and results. 

e. The same affections in their selfish state sum themselves up in the 
tribe, and lose the domestic virtues in mere clannish prejudice. 



THE AFFECTIONS. H5 

ORDER II. THE SOCIAL AFFECTIONS. 

Class Third. The Amical Affections. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Amical Affection.' Social Caste. 

a. This class of affections relates to friends without regard to kin or 
country, and is based on a sentiment of mutuality and congeniality in 
tastes, culture, and pursuits. 

b. It is much enhanced in its higher developments by the reciprocal 
appreciation of great virtues of character and great endowments of 
mind, especially by sympathy in noble and self-sacrificing pursuits for 
the glory of God and the good of men. . 

c. In its lower forms it is merely personal, and based perhaps on per- 
sonal reciprocities of taste, benefit, and enjoyment. In its higher forms 
it is a reciprocal appreciation and affection for great virtues mutually 
possessed and nobly exercised ; and in this state the affection ascends 
above the sphere of the merely social, and indicates character as right 
and opposed to the wrong, and becomes heroic and ethical in its nature. 

d. But there are friendships among the bad, as well as the good, 
which are only a social selfishness, and not at all of an ethically pure 
character; showing that the amical affections, like all other social and 
individual affections, are in themselves neither right nor wrong, but simply 
a part of man's original constitution, and a subdivision of his sensibili- 
ties, which may be either right or wrong, according to the objects towards 
which they are exercised. This will more fully appear as we take up 
the following manifestations of these affections. 

First Manifestation — Friendliness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Friendliness. Boon Companions. 

Love of Friends and Benefactors. Confreres. 

Kindred Spirits of mutual Tastes, Revellers. 

and Works. 
Damon and Pythias. 

a. The exercise of friendliness growing out of a regard for benefactors 
and kindred spirits, and those whose tastes and pursuits are similar to 
our own, is a natural and healthy exercise of the heart, good and desir- 
able in itself, though not an ethical virtue. 

b. On the other hand, the fellowship of boon companions, the inter- 



116 AUTOLOGY. 

course of confreres, and the carousings of revellers, are evil and detrimen- 
tal, wrong, morally wrong. Such friendship isnot friendly, but selfish, 
sensual, demoralizing. 

Second Manifestation — Sociableness. 
Selfial State. Selfish State, 

Sociableness. Tllicitness. 

Regard for Neighbors. Promiscuous Intercourse. 

Mingling in Sports. Unrestraint. 

Amusements, Celebrations, 

Schools, and Religious 

Worship. 

a. The. intercourses of society within the limits, and surrounded by 
the enclosures, of the family, the church, the school, the neighborhood, and 
the social gathering for celebrations, sports, holidaj^s, amusements, and 
religious worship,, are all good, and promotive of humane and beneficent 
ends ; at least they are selfial only, and not evil. 

b. But the promiscuous and illicit mingling in unrestraint, with no 
sacred enclosures of home, family, domestic relations, church, or school, 
is selfish and demoralizing. Coming together for mere amusement is 
seldom without injury and sin. 

c. Friendliness and sociableness are highly beneficial, though their 
opposites, either of excess or negation, are ruinous. If instead of 
sociableness we have moroseness and self-seclusion, it is a vice ; and 
if instead of friendliness we have hostility, it is a sin against the indi- 
vidual and a mischief in the community. We see, then, that these affec- 
tions may be good or evil, right or wrong. 

Third Manifestation — Reciprocalness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Reciprocalness. Party Spirit. 

In Business Relations, Brigandism. 

In Interchanges of Labor, Embargo. 

Ln Traffic, Barter, 
In Travel, Roads and Nav- 
igation. 

a. Now, all these amical affections, thus fully expanded and developed 
into their various manifestations and modes of life and kinds of character, 
when complete sum up on the selfial and selfish sides as follows : — 



THE AFFECTIONS. 177 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

The Neighborhood, Communism, or Barbarous 

The Borough, Seclusion. 
The Municipality. 

b. We here come to the end of the social affections, with their classes 
and manifestations. They are an order by themselves, and fill a large 
place in human feelings and intercourses. They begin in the affection 
of two, as husband and wife, and passing through all kindred affections, 
expand to universal friendship and fellowship. And 'this brings us to 
the next order of affections, viz. : — 

OEDER III. PATRIOTIC AFFECTIONS. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Patriotism and Loyalty. Clannishness and Treason. 

a. There is no affection of the mind better known, or at least none 
more talked about, than Patriotism, and none more eulogized as a high 
virtue. The possession of it is regarded often as an apology for many 
vices, and the absence of it as unredeemed by the presence of many 
virtues. It rises above and expands beyond the social affections, as they 
rise above and extend beyond the individual affections. 

b. This order is formed by three successive and connected movements. 

First, By the determination of all the elemental affections, — desire- 
fulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and rever- 
entialness, — through hopefulness; and 

Second. By flowing out through the determinate orders of indi- 
vidual affections and social affections, and partaking of them all ; and 

Third. By flowing over beyond them, and forming a distinct body 
for themselves, and dividing themselves into classes and manifestations. 

c. Thus the patriotic affections rise naturally out of and above the 
two preceding orders, viz., individual affections and social affections, 
and stand over against, and correspond to, the elemental affection of 
hopefulness. 

d. The relation of this order to hopefulness is not direct, but general, 
as indeed that of all the determinate affections is to the indeterminate ; 
yet as individual interest may grow out of mere desirefulness, so, when 
trustfulness is added to desirefulness, there will arise and expand from 
them the social affections ; then, if hope be added to trust, the social 
affections will widen into patriotic affections, and so on until the 
development is complete. 

e. There is, then, a real and not simply a coincidental relation of the 
several orders of the determinate affections to the indeterminate or 

23 



178 AUTOLOGY. 

elemental affections which correspond to them. Just so also is there a 
real and organic relation of each determinate order of affections to the pre- 
ceding order of determinate affections. Thus the patriotic affections par- 
take cf all the elemental affections, and of all the determinate affections 
which have preceded them ; they are derived from them all, and are all 
both good and noble. 

/. All the affections are in their selfial state equally good, yet they 
seem to rise and develop one upon 'another, in ever higher and larger 
grades and growths. The social is above the individual, and the patri- 
otic above the social, and so through the whole series ; though no one 
is in reality more pure or worthy than the others. 

g. The love of country grows almost necessarily out of loving our- 
selves. The lowest individual affection of self-sustentation is of the 
same root out of which patriotism grows ; and so the self-defensive, self- 
acquisitive, and self-annunciative affections of the individual order all 
enter into patriotism ; and so also are the marital, kindred, and arnica! 
affections of the social order all called into play in the patriotic affec- 
tions, which are only a larger development and a more specific deter- 
mination of them all. 

h. The love of country is thus natural and right ; and to be destitute 
of it is regarded as akin to that unnaturalness, and partaking of that 
falseness, which the mother shows who does not love her child and pro- 
vide for it, or a child that maltreats or neglects the parent. 

i. An unpatriotic man is always regarded with abhorrence, for he 
enjoys the shelter of a roof, the hospitality of a home, the protection of 
laws, the defence of arms, and the fruit of a soil for which he is willing 
to make no return ; he loves not his own mother. He is selfish, un- 
grateful, base, and . cowardly, and is justly more despised and scorned 
than an open enemy. The man who is false to his country sums up and 
commits all crimes in one. 

j. This abhorrence of the unpatriotic man, which is felt by all, finds 
a fitting expression in the lines of Scott, — 

"Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 
This is my own, my native land? 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned 
As home his footsteps he hath turned? 



The wretch, concentred all in self, 

Living shall forfeit fair renown, 

And doubly dying shall go down 

To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 

Unwept, unhonored, and unsung." 

Patriotism, as we have seen, has its root deep down in the being of man, 
and derives its life from the profoundest depths of human interest. The 



THE AFFECTIONS. . 119 

true sentiment of a living and fervent patriotism is touckingly set forth 
in the words of the departing missionary, — 

"Yes, my native land, I love thee; 
All thy scenes, I love them well : 
Friends, connections, happy country, 
Can I bid you all farewell ? 

"Home, thy joys are passing lovely — 
Joys no stranger heart can tell. 
Happy home, indeed I love thee : 
Can I, can I say farewell ? 

" Scenes of sacred peace and pleasure, 
Holy days and Sabbath bell, 
Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure, 
CanI say a last farewell ? " 

k. In this way do the patriotic affections entwine themselves arounu 
all the tenderest objects of personal, social, domestic, political, and 
religious life, and branch out into classes and manifestations, which 
wind and interbraid themselves around all the facts, forms, features, and 
relations of kindred, home, and country, and bear through them all the 
same warm current of life, and cover them all with the same foliage, and 
flower, and fruit of human interest, sympathy, and love. 

Patriotic Affections. 

Selfial Stale. Selfish State. 

Patriotism and Loyalty. Clannishness and Treason. 

Class First. Raceal Affections. 
Manifestations. 
Love of our own Race, Race-hostility. 

Of Blood Relations. Blood-feuds. 

War of Races, Serfdom. 
Pariahism, Slavery. 

Class Second. Local Affections. 
Manifestations. 
Attachment to Home, Homesickness. 

House, Garden, Barn, Farm, 

Soil, Hills, Brooks, Plains, Desiderium Suorum. 

• Valleys, Rivers, Mountains, 
Lakes, Forests, Waterfalls, 
Groves, Fountains, Lawns, 
Seas, Islands, Deserts, Volcanoes, 



180 



AUTOLOGY. 



Class Third. Cultal Affections. 



Manifestations. 
Selfial State. 
Atatchment to Social and National 
Customs, Feasts, Holidays, Games, 
Christmas, New Year, Thanksgiving, 
Weddings, Worship, Funerals, 
Sports, Hunts, Pageants, Songs, 
Dances, Festal Music. 



Selfish State. 

Diseased Sensibility 
to Home, Songs, 
and Customs. 

Slavery to Customs. 

Nostalgia. 



Class Fourth. National Affections. 

Manifestations. 
Love of our own Nation, National Pride. 

Attachment t.o Government, 

History, Heroes, Kings, Statesmen, My Country, right 

Poets, Orators, Great Men, or wrong. 

Institutions, Celebrations, 

Fourth of July, Flag, Arms, Parades, Expatriation. 

Martial Music, Yankee Doodle, 
Hail Columbia, Star-spangled Banner, 
Marseilles Hymn, God save the King. 



These sum up a 

Country and a State. 



These sum up a 

Territory and Feudalism. 



These comprehend all the classes of Patriotic Affections 
consider these several classes in their order, and in detail. 



we will now 



Class First. Eaceal Affections 

Manifestations. 
Selfial State. 
Love of our own Race, 
Of Blood Relations. 



Selfish State. 
Race-hostility. 
Blood-feuds. 



a. The affection for our race, as the Caucasian or Indian, consists in 
an expansion of the kindred affection. It grows out of our blood rela- 
tions. The love of parents for children, and the love of brothers and 
kindred widens into love for the whole race to which we belong; and 
though this is not patriotism, but clannishness, yet it is essential to 
patriotism ; for if we have no family, nor kindred race, in a country, nor 



THE AFFECTIONS. 181 

ever have had, why should we love it ? Our country is dear because it 
nurtures and protects our countrymen, of the same race with ourselves! 

b. This is the first and lowest form of patriotic affections ; a fellow- 
feeling with those whose blood is the same that flows in our own veins, 
and with whom we thus have sympathy. This is the basis of local, 
cultal, and national affection, the root that grows up and becomes patri- 
otism. 

c. On the contrary, the perversion of raceal affections becomes clan- 
nishness, enmity and hatred of other races, leading to blood-feuds, and 
# war of races, to slaughter, persecution, and extermination of races, or, 
what is worse than all, pariahism, or enslavement of races. 

d. This last and bitterest curse, this deepest depravity of . humanity, 
— this is that " hating of our brother " which damns the soul. The man 
who would make a slave of his brother and degrade him from his man- 
hood, the race which would enslave and rob an inferior race, commits a 
crime against humanity which the Heavens will avenge. This is the 
last depth of the perversion of the raceal affection to the hatred of races. 

e. The Jews, the Gypsies, the Irish, and the Africans are each speci- 
mens of the strength of raceal affection, for they hold on to their own 
separate individualities with a tenacity of interest that centuries of per- 
secution and hate cannot extinguish ; and they are illustrations also of 
the wrong, the wickedness, and the folly of race-oppression. By the 
race-hate of the Russians and Austrians, the Poles and the Hungarians 
are kept on the rack of a living torture from age to age. 

f. To love our kindred, to feel a pride in our race, is natural and 
right ; but to hate any other race for their blood is not only wrong, 
but cruel and satanic, for "God hath made of one blood all nations of 
men, for to dwell on all the. face of the earth." 

Class Second. Local Affections. 

Manifestations. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Attachment to Home, House, Homesickness. 

Garden, Barn, Farm, &c. Desiderium Suorum. 

a. Patriotism is a love of country, and this love must have " a local 

habitation and a name." It must fix on home, soil, hills, plains, rivers, 

mountains, lakes, forests, waterfalls, deserts, volcanoes, seas, islands, or 

some object of nature where we have lived. 

• b. It loves the form as well as the spirit; and hence, while it sings — 

" My country, 'tis of thee, 

Sweet land of liberty, 

Of thee I sing," 



182 AUTOLOGY. 

it adds, — 



and, 



Land where my fathers died, 
Land of the Pilgrims' pride," 

I love thy rocks and rills, 
Thy woods and templed hills, 



mingling thus history and locality, event and place, spirit and form. 
The land is dear where the fathers died, where the Pilgrims lived ; the 
mountains which they looked upon, and the rivers by which they dwelt; 
and the form becomes dear by association, and is as commemorative and 
monumental of thoughts and sentiments as of events. 

c. It is the land and its scenery that give embodiment to thought, 
and are objects to affection ; and all that is dear and wondrous in 
childhood, all that is romantic in youth, all that is ardent in young man- 
hood, and victorious in mature life, and all that is solacing in age, seem 
to take form, and feature, and body in the. natural objects and scenery of 
a country ; and hence the country in its physical extent, aspects, and 
forms, becomes the object, the shrine, of all our affection's. 

d. The place where we were born, where we lived and loved, toiled 
and played, grew up and grew strong, grew old and spent our days, 
— such places are ever dear to our hearts. Says the patriot Tell, — 

" Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again ; 
I hold to you the hands ye oft have seen, 
To show you that they still are free. Methinks 
A spirit in your echoes answers me, 
And bids me welcome to your arms again." 

e. This sentiment of local affection, fixing itself on places and things, 
is beautifully set forth in the lines entitled 

The Old Oaken Bucket. 

"How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, 
When fond recollection presents them to view, 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wildwpod, 

And every loved spot which my infancy knew. 
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, 
The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, 
. The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, 

And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well. 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. 

" That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure; 

For often, at noon when returned. from the field, 
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, 

The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 
How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, 

And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell, 



THE AFFECTIONS. 183 

Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, 
And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well ! 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
The. moss-covered bucket arose from the well. 

" How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it 
As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips ! 
Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, 

The brightest that beauty or revelry sips. 
And now, far removed from thy loved habitation, 

The tear of regret will intrusively swell, 
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, 

And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well. 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket, that hangs in the well." 

/. This affection is felt by the soldier far away, the sailor on distant 
seas, the traveller, the slave, the prisoner, the emigrant ; and it amounts 
often to disease. Homesickness is no fiction ; and the first sight of a 
native hill, river, sea, or shore, is a joy which only they who have been 
long away can tell. 

g. Love of country is, then, one of the most human of all human loves, 
and homesickness the most kindly and virtuous of all human infirmities. 
It is next to loving our kindred ; indeed, it is the same, only it has 
taken on a local form ; and when our kindred are dead and gone, we 
love the place where they lived, even as we love the body, though the 
soul has fled, and the picture when the living face is gone, and the very 
grave where the dead have mouldered. 

h. Patriotism leads to our loftiest deeds of courage, self-sacrifice, and 
daring, as well as to our lowliest loves. The love of country has its 
spring in our hearts' blood, and for our country our hearts' blood is most 
freely shed. Our homes and hearths, our kindred and loved ones, give 
the vital spirit to our patriotism. Our best brain and our best blood, our 
noblest deeds and deepest sacrifices, are always made for our country. 
Heroism and oratory, poetry and song, learning and art, all take their 
root in the soil, and but for the soil would hardly be at all. 

i. "The Ten Thousand " Greeks of Xenophon, who in that ever-mem- 
orable retreat from the depths of Asia, after a circuitous and contested 
march, and a long, dangerous, and toilsome absence, shouted, " The sea! 
The sea!" when from the distant mountains their eyes first fell on the 
waves of the Euxine, whose waters lave their own native shore, are 
an instance of the deep heart-yearning which the long absent feel for 
the physical forms of their mother country. And the shout of the Ger- 
mans, "Am Rhein! Am Rhein!" on their first glimpse of that river, as 
they returned victorious from battle, both in an early and now in our 
own time, is also a well-known instance of patriotic enthusiasm for a 
great object in the physical conformation of their native country. 



184 AUTOLOGY. 

"It is the Rhine, our mountain vineyards laving; 
I see the bright flood'shine; 
Sing on the march, with every banner waving; 
Sing, brothers : 'tis the Rhine ! 

" The Rhine, the Rhine, our own imperial river! 
Be glory on thy track ! 
We left thy shores to die or to deliver; 
We bear thee freedom back. 

" Hail ! hail ! My childhood knew thy rush of water, 

Even as a mother's song; 
" That sound went past me on the field of slaughter, 

And heart and arm grew strong. 

" Roll proudly on ! Brave blood is with thee sweeping, 
Poured out by sons of thine, 
When sword and spirit forth in joy were leaping 
Like thee, victorious Rhine ! 

" Home ! home ! thy glad wave hath a tone of greeting, 
Thy path is by my home ; 
Even now my children count the hours till meeting; 
O ransomed ones, I come ! 

" Go, tell the seas that chain shall bind thee never; 
Sound on, by hearth and shrine ; 
Sing through the hills, that thou art free forever; 
Lift up thy voice, O Rhine ! " 

j. The perversion of this affection is like that of the preceding 1 class. 
The hatred of a foreign country is as absurd and wicked as the hatred 
of a race. Humanity shows its worst features here, in the devilish 
spirit of hostility and conquest. 

" Lands intersected by a narrow frith 
Abhor each other. Mountains interposed 
Make enemies of nations, which had else, 
Like kindred drops, been mingled into one." 

k. Not that territorial limits should be abolished, nor that national 
distinctions or peculiarities are wrong or undesirable. It is doubtless 
better that nations, like families, should be distinct, and preserve their 
individuality ; but it is a crime and a sin for one nationality to destroy 
another. 

I. Let each preserve and have its own territorial limits, and let the 
people love their own lands and homes, and feel that they are joint pro- 
prietors of the earth's surface ; but let not this lead to territorial wars, 
and conquests, and oppressions; for "the earth is the Lord's, and the 
fulness thereof," and men constitute his one family in the one paternal 
home. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 185 

Class Thikd. Cdltal Affections. 

Manifestations. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Attachment to Social and National ■ Slavery to Customs. 

Customs, ' Nostalgia. 

Feasts, Holidays, Games, &c. 

a. It would be impracticable to describe the local, tribal, national, and 
social customs, relating to birth, baptism, marriage, and death, birthday 
anniversaries, and weddings, whether wooden, tin, glass, china, silver, 
or golden, which are to be found among all nations. They have, how- 
ever, the same characteristics everywhere. 

b. They have a most powerful control over the popular heart. Some 
one has said, " Let me write the ballads of a nation, and he who will 
may write their laws ; " and so, whoever can direct the domestic, social, 
and national customs of a people will have a powerful control over their 
whole destiny. 

c. This cultal affection is stronger than local affection ; for nations 
carry their cultal customs with them, and reproduce and ' perpetuate 
them, in strange countries and on distant lands ; and wherever men may 
be, the customs of their native land are ever dear to them, and ever 
waken sympathy in their hearts. 

d. They are remembered longest, and given up last ; even in the land 
of oppression and bondage, by the third and fourth generations of those 
who have been torn from their native land, and enslaved beyond the 
seas, are the customs of the forefathers perpetuated and loved. 

e. Our youth never forget their May-day', nor children their Christ- 
mas. A New "England Thanksgiving and a universal New Year's clay 
will never be forgotten. They will be revived and observed in all gen- 
erations, and in all parts of the world. 

f. The effect of native songs on the mind in a foreign land is strik- 
ingly illustrated by the Israelites in bondage. " By the rivers of Baby- 
lon, there, we sat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion. 
We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there 
they that carried us away captive required of us a song-, and they that 
wasted us required of us mirth, saying-, Sing us one of the songs of 
Zion. How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land ? If I 
forget thee, Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning ; if I do 
not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ; if I 
prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy." 

g. So the Swiss* soldiers, who are hired in foreign countries, are 
notorious for their sensibility to their national songs. They who can 
24 



1S6 AUTOLOGY. 

brave battle and death for hire, weep and become as children at the 
sound of a native song in a foreign land. An actual disease of home- 
sickness often ensues, — which is called " Nostalgia/' — insomuch that 
such music is prohibited by military discipline. 

Class Fourth. National Affections.* 

Manifestations. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Love of our own Nation, National Pride. 

Attachment to Governmental My Country, right or 

Institutions, Celebrations, &c. wrong. 

a. These affections are little more than a summing up of all the pre- 
ceding classes. The raceal, local, and cultal affections are the life and 
body of the national affections. The nation is the full and mature 
growth of all the elements of the peculiar life within it. 

b. It is made up of the people and their customs ; the Legislature, 
the Judiciary and the Executive departments, all forming one whole ; 
having one flag, one army, one political economy, one commerce, con- 
stituting one composite, organic, peculiar, and homogeneous political 
life; one body having many members, yet being one individuality. 

c. Now, this, our own nation, so made up, claiming its nationality, and 
manifesting its being at home and abroad, on the high seas, and in all 
islands, and ports, and at all courts and governments, becomes an object 
of love and of pride to its citizens. They rejoice in its honor ; they are 
proud of its power ; they hail its flag ; they feel themselves honored 
in wearing its name, and protected by its presence and arms all over 
the earth. 

d. To the inhabitants of a country its national airs are dear ; its 
martial music, its triumphal days. They keep its festivals ; they laud 
its historic deeds; they honor its statesmen, jurists, warriors, scholars, 
poets, and philosophers. The freedom and laws of their native land, 
their military power, their army and navy, their commerce and wealth, 
their schools and intelligence, — all these make up the elements and sum 
total of that nationality, which becomes an object of affection to the 
citizens. 

e. A nation is an individual having proprietorship, possessing all the 
forces of an independent sovereignty, and, as such, becomes a sort of 
personality, and is not only loved and cherished by its citizens, but held 
responsible by them and by other nations for its conduct, as a nation, in 
the administration of its affairs, and in its intercourse with other nations. 

/. The nation, which is the object of this love and obligation to its 



TIIE AFFECTIONS. 187 

citizens, and holding- relations to the rest of the world, is the object also 
of all patriotic affections, in all their forms, raceal, local, cultal, and 
national. 

g. To love one's country is -one of the highest virtues ; nor is there 
any other emotion that will call out so much fervor, so much enthusiasm, 
so much sacrifice. The last struggle of Kosciusko is thus described : — ■ 

"Warsaw's last champion from her height surveyed, 
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid. 
' O Heaven,' he cried, ' my bleeding country save ! 
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave? 
Yet though destruction sweep those lovely plains, 
Eise, fellow-men ! our country yet remains ! 
By that dread name we wave the sword on high, 
And swear for her to live, with her to die.' 
He said — and on the rampart heights arrayed 
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; 
Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; 
Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly, 
Kevenge or death — the watch-word and reply ; 
In vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few ! 
From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew. 
Hope for a season bade the world farewell, 
And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell." 

h. Poetry, and oratory, and heroism, and history, art, and the drama, 
have all exhausted themselves in honor of patriotism. It has become 
the most sensitive and passionate of all the affections. 

i. When slavery with, tyrannous intent, and with wicked and impious 
hands, tore down the Nation's flag, fired on the Nation's fort, and struck 
at the Nation's heart, then rose up, as if moved by one spirit, the whole 
people, by millions, shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom. 

" We are springing to the call from the east and from the west, 
Shouting the battle-cry of Freedom. 
And we'll hurl the rebel crew from the land we love the best; 
Shouting the battle-cry of Freedom. 
The Union forever ! hurrah, boys, hurrah ; 
Down with the traitor, up with the star, 
While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, 
Shouting the battle-cry of Freedom." 

And they did rush to battle and to death, to rescue the country and 
to maintain the nation. Men by the hundreds of thousands, and 
money by the hundreds of millions, were freely given, and the land was 
saved, the rebellion was crushed, and freedom was established, and sla- 
very was overthrown. 

j. All this is a right and healthy exercise of this affection. There is, 



188 AUTOLOGY. 

however, an excess in this sentiment, which finds its expression in these 
words: "My country, right or wrong." There is a sense in which a 
parent might defend the child, "right or wrong," and bear and suffer 
for it ; but even this has its limits. So with patriotism : it is proper to 
stand for our nation, that it be not extinguished, or unduly humbled, in 
any event, even whennvrong; yet "my country, right or wrong," is a 
sentiment which the larger, and, so far forth, truer affection of. philan- 
thropy will of certainty limit. 

k. A country may enter on a career of oppression and conquest, 
wrong in all its spirit and bearing, which not only the philanthropist, 
but even the true patriot, and that as a matter of patriotism, not less 
than of philanthropy, will feel bound to discountenance and oppose, 
'and none the less for its being his own country which commits the 
offence. And this leads us to the next order of the determinate affec- 
tions ; viz., the Philanthropic Affections. 

ORDER IV. THE PHILANTHROPIC AFFECTIONS. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Philanthropic Affections. Commerciality. 

Class First. Humane Affections. 
Humane Affections. Unnaturalness, 

. Inhumanity, 
Unrelentingness. 

Class Second. Utile Affections. 
Utile Affection, Illiberality. 

Progressiveness, Fossilization. 

Improvement. 

These sum up These sum up 

Philanthropy. Heathenism. 

a. This order of affections arises naturally out of all the preceding 
orders, combining in itself all their properties, and flowing over by a 
new and larger life beyond them all. It has its genesis in the determi- 
nation of all the elemental affections — desirefulness, trustfulness, hope- 
fulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness, through the 
element of cheerfulness. Then, by passing out. through the individual, 
social, and patriotic orders of determinate affections, partaking of them 
all, and extending over and beyond them with a vitality and quantity 



THE AFFECTIONS. 189 

of their own, these affections form a new order by themselves, and sub- 
divide themselves into different classes and manifestations. 

b. This order, like each of the preceding ones, stands over against 
an elemental affection, as its basis or correlative. Cheerfulness is a 
calm and satisfied state of soul, into which desire, and trust, and hope, 
combining, settle, and in which the heart is disposed to look out upon 
humanity at large, and as a whole, beyond the limits of individuality, 
society, and country, and feel brotherhood and sympathy with all 
mankind.' In this way is cheerfulness, coming as it does after desire, 
trust, and hope, the basis, or fountain, or correlative of the philan- 
thropic affections. 

c. This order comes after the orders of elemental and determinate 
affections, already given, and is developed from them. Thus the indi- 
vidual,, social, patriotic, and philanthropic affections spring respectively 
from the elemental affections, desire, trust, hope, and cheerfulness, and 
are correlatives to them. 

d. The genesis of each successive order .of determinate affections is 
always after the same method, and by the combination of all the preced- 
ing orders of the determinate affections with a determination of the ele- 
mental affections, through the next succeeding element, in each case 
respectively ; e. g., as the patriotic order of affections arose out of the 
combination of all the preceding orders with the elemental affections 
determined through hope, so the philanthropic affections are formed by 
a combination of all the preceding orders with the elemental affections 
determined through cheerfulness, which is the next succeeding element ; 
and so on with the succeeding orders. 

e. Philanthropy comes next in order above patriotism, and is the re- 
buke and the barrier to that false and wicked perversion of patriotism 
expressed in the sentiment, " My country, right or wrong." ' The 
claims of the individual are limited by society, and those of society 
by the country, and of the country by the world. 

/. Philanthropy thus rises above the country, and embraces the 
whole world. It is an expansion of all the preceding affections into 
the largest sphere which the world affords ; it is a love of mankind, a 
general affection for humanity, that feeling wliich would lead to anj T act 
of. kindness or good will to our fellow-men. This is the highest provis- 
ion that nature makes for insuring the fulfilment of the command, 
" Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." 

g. The natural feelings of marital, paternal, filial, fraternal, amical, 
and patriotic affection, are here expanded into a universal philanthropy 
or humanity. It is not the moral virtue of Christian benevolence of 
which we are here speaking, but merely and altogether a constitutional 
feeling, which has its basis in our social nature, and would, were we 



190 AUTOLOGY. 

not fallen, lead us to love all men as we love our immediate kin- 
dred.' 

h. Here is the distinction between this natural affection of philan- 
thropy and the moral virtue of benevolence : while a true, Christian 
benevolence would lead us to regard the well-being of men in its broad- 
est sense as it relates to God as well as to each other, recognizing 
man's lost estate, and the retribution of eternity, and seeks by the gos- 
pel of Jesus Christ to save men from the one, and to qualify them to 
meet the other, mere philanthropy seeks human well-being only accord- 
ing to the laws of kindred affection and human foresight, simply ex- 
panding the family feeling, paying no regard to right and wrong, as 
such, or to God's law, as such, or to eternity, but prudently balancing 
profit and loss, pleasure and pain, success and misfortune,, in this life. 

i. It seeks to find nothing more than the greatest happiness of the 
greatest number, and makes that the rule of action and the stimulant 
of character. Philanthropy is the highest and most expansive order of 
natural affections. It seeks the most extended and enduring happiness 
for men in this world, but does not seek their moral excellence, as such. 
It is not, therefore, a moral virtue, but merely a natural affection. 

j. The vice of this order of affections is that of indulgence, and the 
putting of merely social feeling for mora] character. They have an 
appointed office in our mental economy, and are morally right when 
chosen by the will in obedience to the law of the conscience ; and they 
become sinful when they are allowed to supersede the right, or substi- 
tute utility for rectitude, or when they lead us to worship and serve the 
creature more than the Creator, who is blessed forever. 

k. *The philanthropic affections are divided into two classes ; viz., 
Humane and Utile, as follows : — 

Class First. Humane Affections. 
First Manifestation. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Pity for the Suffering, the Sick, , Brutality, 

'and the Afflicted. 

Second Manifestation. 
Help for the Needy. Stinginess. 

Third Manifestation. 

Kindness to the Undeserving. Shutting up the Heart, 

Harsh Condemnation, 
Callousness. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 191 

Fourth Manifestation. 

Selfial Slate. _ Selfish Slate. 

Forbearance for the Erring, Summary Punishment. 

Fifth Manifestation. 

Charity for all. Censoriousness, 

Oppressiveness, 
License, 

Starving of Parents, 
Infanticide. 

These sum up These sum up 

Humanity. Barbarism. 

We now take up separately these various manifestations : — 

First Manifestation. 
Pity for the Suffering. Brutality. 

a. These successive manifestations of the humane affections seem 
scarcely to need discussion ; yet they mark the widest differences of 
human character, and the most distinct forms of society and of civiliza- 
tion. 

b. Pity for the suffering is indeed found among- the rudest people, but' 
it often extends no farther than the nearest relative. The sick and in- 
firm are abandoned to their fate ; old age and infancy meet a common 
doom in a common bimtality. It is true that pity for suffering is of 
necessity modified in its manifestation by the ability to relieve it, and 
that they who are humane under some circumstances are given up to 
selfishness under others. 

c. Much that is pity in appearance is in fact only selfishness seeking 
relief, and much that is brutal in form may be in truth only inability to 
relieve the wants of others ; yet pity for the suffering is ever a mark of 

•£n upward tendency in humanity. 

d. It is often the case that those whose moral development is low, 
whose lives are in other respects selfish and immoral, will have much 
pity for those in distress, and will do much, and suffer much, to relieve 
them. Vicious and improvident men, sailors and wanderer^, who have 
fallen sick and become destitute in foreign lands, tell us of kindness, 



192 AUTOLOGY. 

hospitality, nursing, care, and of long, patient, expensive, and tender 
relief, afforded them by the poor and lowly, and even by abandoned 
women, upon whose hands they have been thrown in their extremity as 
strangers — relief given unasked, and with no demanding or expectation 
of pay. 

e. It is both a joy and a grief to see humanity thus assert itself as 
imperishable in the human heart ; a grief that it should fall so low, 
while yet it is a joy that it can do a deed so high. On the other hand 
it is a pain relieved by no joy to see that amidst plenty, and ease, and 
splendor, humanity may die out of even woman's heart, and only a 
greedy selfishness reign there, and that continually. 

/. Pity for the suffering is surely never a sin, unless it prevents the 
needful and just punishment of crime which is essential to safety and 
reformation, or encourages the .vice that brings on misery. Yet it is not 
necessarily a moral virtue. Mere natural pity is humane and good ; its 
opposite is inhuman and wrong ; yet to have pity when it is not mere 
sympathy, but when it is also duty, and to show it from regard to God, 
and virtue, and the good of humanity, — this is also a moral virtue. 

g. This affection may be found in excess or in deficiency, and in either 
case is wrong and selfish. Undue pity for the guilty who suffer the 
penalty of their sin, or rather such relief of them as ignores their sin 
and all moral differences, is as selfish, and wrong, and as barbarous as 
the hardness of heart that abandons the suffering to perish. Thus there 
may be a pity that is pitiless, as there may be a mercilessness that is 
merciful. 

Second Manifestation. 

Selfial Stale. Selfish State. 

Help for the Needy. Stinginess. 

a. The second manifestation is help for the needy, standing opposed 
to stinginess. Faith without works is dead. " What doth it profit, my 
brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works ? Can 
faith save him ? If a brother or a sister be naked, and destitute of daily 
food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be you warmed 
and filled, notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are 
needful to the body, what doth it profit ? Even so faith, if it have not 
works, is dead, being alone." . ■ 

b. The disposition to afford relief and to put kindness into bread, and 
sympathy into shelter, and good will into clothes, and love into medi- 
cine, and all into personal care and watching, — this is help for the 



THE AFFECTIONS. 193 

needy. It embodies itself in personal gifts, attentions, and labors, and 
in all forms of benevolent societies and institutions, poorhouses, hospi- 
tals, infirmaries, asylums, workhouses, ragged schools, reform schools, 
children's homes, homes for the destitute, homes for the outcast, and all 
kinds of charitable ministrations. These are the embodiments of this 
affection, which shows itself in help for the needy. 

c. It is often a pure Christian virtue; yet as often such institutions are 
founded and fed by the money of merely humane men, and perhaps for 
the sake of the honor and distinction which it brings ; and this is well 
as a good work and a relief to the needy, though not a true virtue; 
the liabilities of these institutions to become a vice are only such as 
attend all human things. That men who neither fear' God nor regard 
man will often give for the help of the needy, as a mode of buying off 
their sins, oppressions, overreachings, and extortions, is doubtless true. 
There is, indeed,- much of this. 

d. Some there are also who seem to make the running of benevolent 
causes a kind of trade, and the source of a livelihood, of fame, and of 
promotion ; but all these things condemn themselves : the good thus 
done, the help to the needy thus actually received by them, is a real 
good ; while of the unworthy and selfish contributor, either of work or 
money, Christ will say, as of those who pray to be heard of men, "Verily 
they have their reward." The excesses and deficiencies of this affection 
are apparent. 

Third Manifestation. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Kindness to the Unde- Shutting up the Heart with 

serving. h^rsh condemnation, 

Callousness. 

a. The thir.d manifestation is kindness to the undeserving. This is 
mercy when shown by the Father in heaven, or when he is imitated in 
it by the good on earth. There may be a lenience to worthlessness 
which encourages it ; this is sin. 

b. But the kindness which consists in a faith so acted, and a hope so 
expressed, and an opportunity and the means so afforded to the guilty 
and the undeserving that they may reform and reclaim themselves, — 
this is right and worthy, and can hardly be less than a Christian virtue. 

c. This, indeed, is Christ-like ; this is precisely what Christ did when 
he came into the world to save sinners ; and he is following Christ who 
does this thing, and affords this kindness to the undeserving. This is 
loving our enemies, and blessing them that curse, and doing good unto 
them who are despiteful, and who persecute us. 

d. All kindness unto the undeserving must be so exhibited as not to 

25 



194 AUTOLOGY. 

wink at sin, or show any complicity with it ; else is it a vice, and not a 
virtue. Thus did Christ. He was kind and merciful to sinners, but in 
no such way as to show complicity with sin. 

e. This disposition has its excess and its deficiency. The excess is 
when it is license to sin. The deficiency is when it is a shutting up of 
the heart with harsh condemnations, and a rendering 1 of it callous and 
hard, and when it prevents and prohibits all chance of repentance or 
reformation to the sinning, making no difference between the repent- 
ant and the incorrigible. 

Fourth Manifestation. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Forbearance for the Erring. Summary Punishment. 

a. The fourth manifestation of this affection here given is forbear- 
ance for the erring. This, like the preceding, may be merely a natural 
affection, or it may be a Christian virtue, and in either case leads to 
virtue. To bear with those who err is to favor their reformation, unless 
we connive at their sin. The disposition to summary punishment is sel- 
dom right, often injurious, and often wrong. 

b. God is forbearing and kind to the unthankful. Sometimes this 
lenience, though kind on the part of Heaven, results only in the deeper 
sin and more dreadful condemnation of the guilty. This disposition 
has the same characteristics and limitations as the preceding, and is 
right or wrong, good or bad, under the same circumstances as are they. 

Fifth Manifestation. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Charity for all. Censoriousness, Oppressiveness, 

License, Starving of Parents, 
Infanticide. 

a. The fifth manifestation of the human affections is here denominated 
charity for all ; and by charity is here meant that pure love and good 
will of which the apostle speaks under this name when he says, " Char- 
ity suffereth long and is kind, charity envieth not, charity vaunteth not 
itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not 
her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in ini- 
quity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; beareth all things, believeth all things, 
hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth." 

b. Now, this good will is a Christian virtue in its highest estate. In 
its merely natural estate, and as a mere natural affection, such as a 
large-minded man might feel., and a liberal and generous nature might 



THE AFFECTIONS. 195 

exercise, even though a pagan, it is still noble, useful, and good, like 
the vital air. 

c. As a Christian virtue, it is the highest state of the soul ; and the 
difference between it as a natural affection and a Christian virtue, is 
precisely this : that as a Christian virtue it is a positive duty, under the 
control of justice, mercy, and of faith ; while as a natural affection it 
is only the flowing stream of good-nature that does not contemplate 
right and wrong, the salvation or loss of the soul, duty to God, or re- 
nunciation of sin. 

d. The opposites of charity, either as excess or deficiency, are ob- 
vious, the former being mere licentiousness, and the latter oppressive- 
ness. They both lead to the same sin, and the same ruin of souls. 
This class of humane affections sums up on the selfial side as pure phi- 
lanthropy, with all eleemosynary institutions, and on the selfish side 
as barbarism. 

ORDER IV. PHILANTHROPIC AFFECTIONS. 

Class Second. Utile Affections. 

a. The second class of philanthropic affections is the Utile Affections. 
Their office is to give us an interest and pleasure in that which is useful. 
They afford the emotion of gratified sensibility in whatsoever is adapted 
to promote the advantage and happiness of the world. Under the name 
Utile Affections we designate that natural love of happiness known as 
the "chief good/' or the "highest utility," or the principle of "the 
greatest good of the greatest number." 

b. It must be observed, however, that we are here speaking, not of 
the idea or the law of the highest utility or happiness, as an end or rule 
of life, but simply of that sensibility which makes us capable of taking 
an interest in that idea and law ; not of a principle or rule of action, but 
of a natural affection, as a faculty and a capability of the mind. 

c. That man should desire happiness is certainly as right as it is 
natural. Says the apostle, " No man ever yet hated his own flesh." 
That we should love our pleasure, and pursue it, is, indeed, a first law 
of nature. Self-love is not in itself sinful. 

d. The highest utility should be sought. Utility is selfial, and not sel- 
fish ; it belongs to the self, and is no more wrong than the self is. It is 
the greatest good, and is no more wrong than a good estate is wrong when 
compared with a poor one ; therefore the highest utility should be 
sought. To be happy is our first desire. Says Pope, — 

" Happiness ! our being's end and aim, 
Good, pleasure, ease, content, whate'er thy name, 
That something still which prompts the eternal sigh, 
For which we bear to live or dare to die." 



196 AUTOLOGY. 

e. But happiness is not excellence of any sort, physical, intellectual, 
social, or moral ; it is simply a pleasurable state of our susceptibilities ; 
no matter whether it be for a longer or shorter time, or whether it 
be the condition of the whole or a part of our fellow beings : the 
thing is the same ; it is simply happiness ; and that not always to be 
preferred. 

/. And now the question is, not whether happiness is good or bad, but ' 
whether it ought to be made the end of being, or whether we should 
have a higher end of being. It certainly is nobler to be virtuous than 
to be happy. If so, manifestly happiness should not be the chief end of 
pursuit. 

g. Nor is the point here whether the useful and the right may not har- 
monize, but which should be made the rule and the test of the other. 
Certainly we should not act for the bare sake of happiness ; for in -that 
case, if that which was wrong could make us happy, we should pursue 
the wrong. 

h. On the contrary we ought to do right whether it makes us happy 
or not ; nay, even if it should make us suffer, still we should always do 
right. It is, however, true that the right will ultimately make us happy 
if we pursue it; but it is because the right makes us happy in its own 
righteous action, and.,not that it throws down the right and goes over to 
the happy. The right, and not the happy, therefore, ought always to be 
the end for which we should live. 

i. Happiness is an incident, an invariable ultimate result of doing 
right, or of a course of right action, when it is consummated. It is not 
conceivable that a course of right action should result in misery in the 
end, though it may require much sacrifice and pain by the way ; yet 
never should happiness be the end sought. 

j. Utility, or the greatest happiness of the greatest number, is the end 
sought by all mere moralists, political economists, and statesmen ; but 
action on this principle soon shows it to be both wrong and impractica- 
ble, and that it ends in atheism. 

k. For to seek simply the happiness of even the greatest number for 
the greatest length of time, is either to take man's capabilities of hap- 
piness just as they are, and gauge their average gratification, or it is to 
improve them only for the sake of rendering them more capable of enjoy- 
ment ; and in either case the, principle is the same ; improvement is not 
the thing sought, but it is happiness ; all is for the sake of happiness. 

I. Utilitarianism does not seek the right as an end, nor improvement 
as an end, nor excellence as an end, but ever happiness. All else is a 
means, and if the right is sought, it is not because it is right, but because 
it is a means of happiness. 

m. If the wrong were a more efficient means of happiness than the 



THE AFFECTIONS. 197 

right, then it would, on the utilitarian principle, be chosen before the 
right. The greatest-happiness principle does not seek to make men 
righteous, but happy ; or, if righteous, only because '• honesty is the best 
policy." 

n. In this way it becomes simply a selfish principle, and that form of 
self-love which is sin, as it seeks its end of happiness regardless of the 
right, as such ; and in those cases in which it seeks happiness in accord- 
ance with the right, it does so only because' the right is more advan- 
tageous, and not because it is right. 

o. The sin consists in a willingness and an intent to seek happiness 
.as an end, even if it were wrong ; indeed, it does not regard the right at 
all, but merges it in the advantageous, and the profitable, and the happy. 
The utilitarian or greatest-happiness principle is, then, when thus used, 
an utter and flat denial of the right, an assuming that it does not 
exist, and is therefore utterly selfish, unjustifiable, and wrong. 

p. And, finally, it is impracticable ; for no human mind can take so 
extended a view of things as to tell what will secure the greatest 
happiness of the greatest number for the greatest length of time. Util- 
itarianism, then, assumes to do what nothing but the Infinite Mind can do. 

q. It first denies that there is such a thing as right and wrong as a 
rule of duty, or as a distinction of character, or of action, by ignor- 
ing all difference between them, when it believes the one will produce 
happiness as well as the other. 

r. And, secondly, it assumes the place and the prerogative of God 
in determining the rule and the means of human happiness, by claim- 
ing to be able to see the end from the beginning, which none but God 
can do ; or if it should obey God's commandments at all, it would do it, 
not because they were right, or because of His authority, but simply 
because it believed it for its own happiness to do so. 

s. Thus is utilitarianism utterly, and from principle and heart atheis- 
tical ; but self-love, or love of happiness, is in its nature negative ; right 
when pursued in subordination to moral principles, and wrong when made 
the end of action, irrespective of the right. 

t When, therefore, Pope says, — 

" Self-love's the spring of motion, acts the soul, 
Inactive else, or active to no end," — 

he announces what is true of human beings as a fact of nature, but what 
is nevertheless utterly false as a moral philosophy, and a real atheism in 
principle and effect. 

u. The right is the only right end of action to rational and account- 
able beings. Self-love is only blind impulse, aimless but as self-love. 
The reason and the conscience enlightened by God's truth must control it, 



198 AUTOLOGY. 

and constrain it to flow into the channel of the ethically right ; but self- 
love must not force the right into the service of utility. 

v. We come now to take up the several manifestations of the utile 
affections. They are the second class of the philanthropic affections, and 
are themselves divided into, three principal manifestations, which man- 
ifestations have again their subordinate modifications, according to their 
respective objects and applications as they diversify and adapt them- 
selves, covering the whole ground of utility. They appear in the 
following 

Manifestations. 
I. Home Conveniences. II. Social Proprieties. III. Public Spirit. 

These affections, with their various manifestations, cover the whole 
ground of what is known as civilization, as opposed to savage life, and 
include all those inventions, utensils, customs, amenities, arts, improve- 
ments, and proprieties which make up the condition and life of an 
enlightened community. 

x. The first manifestation is that of home conveniences, which are 
seen under the modifications, first, of dwelling-houses instead of huts and 
tents, wigwams, and holes and dens in the earth. It may be well here 
to place the schedule in full before us, that its contrast may be viewed 
at a glance ; and as it may be asked in what sense the terms "selfial " and 
"selfish" are to be applied to these manifestations, the answer is, in the 
same sense as in any other case, for there is a sense in which defect is 
sin, ignorance is vice, and uncivilization is crime. No man, nor a race of 
men, have a right to cultivate barbarism, nor even to live continuously 
in it : excess of civilization is dissipation and effeminacy. 

y. These manifestations have their uses and abuses, their selfial and 
selfish states, as follows : — 

First Manifestation. Home Conveniences. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Home Conveniences. Savagery. 

This manifestation appears in four modifications. 

First Modification. 

Dwelling-houses, Huts, Wigwams, 

Tools for Mechanical Purposes, Dens, Caves, 

Husbandry, Holes in the Earth. 

Stone Axes, Shell Knives. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 199 

Second Modification. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

■ Household Furniture, Mats, Skins, Bones. 

Articles for Sitting and Sleeping, Sticks, Sharp Stones. 

Utensils for Cooking and Eating. Troughs, Bark Dishes. 

Third Modification. 

Materials for Food, as The Exclusive Use of Raw 

Tame Meats, Kine, Sheep, Meats, G-ame, Fish, Roots, 

Fowls, Grains, Vegetables. Nuts, Wild Fruits. 

Fourth Modification. 
Fabrics for Clothing, from Garments of Skins, 

Wool, Cotton, Linen, Silk. of Bark, Leaves, 

Grass, Plants. 

These manifestations and their modified forms may suffice to point out 
the nature and province of these affections. They most clearly mark 
the work and progress of civilization, and the degree of man's elevation 
above brute and savage life. Plainly, if man is not civilized, the brute 
has the advantage of him in his personal and domestic condition. Man 
needs his intelligence, his industry, and his skill to raise him to his true 
position. A state of nature is the "cattle state," and belongs exclu- 
sively to the brutes, who are prepared to make it both comfortable and 
decent, and even dignified ; but human beings cannot remain in it with- 
out degradation and sin. The excellence of humanity is shown in care 
for the personal .comfort, cleanliness, privacy, and defence of the body, 
and all those helps and conveniences that relieve the body from its 
exposures and disabilities. Hence civilization, with its arts, and skill, 
and comforts, is the normal, and not the artificial, state of man. 

First Modification. 

a. The first evidences by which humanity proves itself and demon- 
strates its superiority appear when man erects dwelling-houses for his 
own shelter, comfort, and dignity, and supplies himself by his own 
invention with tools for making fabrics and for cultivating the soil. 

b. Here man begins to assert himself, and to ascend the scale of his 
own superior life. He leaves the den, the cave, and the hole to beasts 
and reptiles, and the hut and the wigwam to the savage, and erects 
himself a house to live in, and is by so much the more a man and a 
rational soul. 



200 AUTOLOGY. 

c. And while he rises thus from the deficiency of the brute and the 
savage in this matter, he sometimes also runs to the opposite extreme 
of extravagance and luxury in the dimensions, and style, and ornamenta- 
tions of his house. 

Second Modification. 

a. Next to the dwelling-house and the implements for husbandry and 
mechanics, we may find, as a second modification, household furniture, 
as articles for sitting and sleeping, and utensils for eating and cooking. 

6. These are the means and the evidences of a rising civilization and 
refinement ; by these man both helps and respects himself. He lays off 
the habits of the brute and the savage — of using his fingers as claws, 
and his teeth as tusks. 

c. He ceases to sit on the ground with only mats or skins under 
him ; no more employs sharp stones, bones, and sticks for tools, or bark 
vessels or wooden troughs for dishes, but affords himself the comforts 
of civilized upholstery and cutlery, and thereby raises himself above the 
beast and the savage. 

Third Modification. 

The third modification of these affections we see in the materials used 
for food. The civilized man provides himself with tame meats from the 
field or stall, such as cattle, swine, sheep, and fowls. He uses grains 
and vegetables of his own cultivation, finding raw meat, wild game, 
fish, roots, and wild fruits insufficient for his use, and leaving them chiefly 
to the savage. 

Fourth Modification. 

a. Lastly, under this manifestation of the utile affections in the dis- 
position to home conveniences, we have the fabrics for clothing. The 
civilized man is distinguished by the amount and the material of his 
clothing. While the savage goes naked, or wears rude fabrics of skins 
or of barks, the civilized man, as both a means and an evidence of his ' 
progress and elevation, makes his apparel of wool, linen, cotton, silk, 
dressed furs, and his shoes of tanned leather, and constructs them all for 
comfort and decency, and wears them with taste as to style and adap- 
tation. 

b. . Now, the strong disposition of men to these things, as seen in the 
above selfial forms, is what we call the due manifestation of the utile 
affections. 

c. It can hardly be needful here to point out the deficiencies and ex- 
cesses of these affections. They stand marked by a degrading savagery 
on the one hand, and a dissipating effeminacy on the other — extremes 
that meet in the same selfishness and the same sin. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 



201 



We pass to the second manifestation of the utile affections, viz., a 
disposition to social proprieties, with its modifications, as follows : — 

Second Manifestation — Social Proprieties. 



Selfial Slate. 
Social Proprieties. 



Selfish State. 
Savage and brute Habits. 



These are seen in the two following modifications : — 

First Modification — Household Regulations. 



Selfial State. 
Manner of Eating, 

Mode of Sitting, Time of 
Eating, Regular Meals, 
The Quantity and Style of 
Dress, Apartments and 
Furniture for Sleeping, Beds, 
Bedding, Separate Rooms for 
Cooking, Eating, Society, and 
Sleeping, and for each 
Member of the Household. 



Selfish State. 
Feeding in Common out of 

the same Dish, 
Sitting on Mats and Skins, 
Sleeping in the Apparel of 

the Day, and all in the 

same Room. 



Second Modification — Social Intercourse. 



Family, Weddings, Visits, 

Parties, Funerals, Etiquette, 
Taste, Refinement in Manners, 
Amusements and Conversation. 
Modes of Worship. 

These sum up 
Breeding. 



Herding together, 

Punctilious Ceremony, 
Fashion. 



These sum up 
Boorishness or Foppery. 



These modes of the social proprieties, as here given,, betoken the 
upward progress of humanity. They are the fixtures of domestic com- 
fort and of social intercourse not only, but the necessary means of all 
order in human relations, all elevation in taste, refinement in manners, 
and purity in morals. 

First Modification — Household Regulations. 

a. Household regulations constitute the partitions and separations in 
the family relations which are essential to personal privacy, and are the 
shield of that delicacy which is at once the seed and the fruit, the parent 
26 



202 AUTOLOGY. 

and the child of all innocence and purity, affection and respect, amongst 
the members of a family, or the people of a community. 

b. The modes and forms, regulations and restraints, the observance of 
mutual rights and conveniences, are each and all essential to civilization, 
and indispensable to true Christianity. For charity is religion, and the 
apostle says, " Charity doth not behave itself unseemly," and without 
the social proprieties as they appear in household regulations, and in 
social intercourse, there will be much that is "unseemly;" and hence 
the disposition to exactness in these things is both right and a duty. 

c. The propriety and order in rising and retiring ; regularity of meals ; 
due moderation, self-control, delicacy and cleanliness in partaking of 
food ; a becoming position in sitting ; neatness, taste, and method in 
dress, and in the apartment and furniture of the dormitory, are deci- 
dedly civilized and almost Christian modes of living, The reverse 
of them is brutish and savage, and a sin of the lowest selfishness against 
humanity. 

Second Modification — Social Intercourse. 

a. The amenities of social intercourse are likewise almost Christian 
virtues. The delicacy that purifies and defends the intimacy of the 
family relations, the restraints that chasten social intercourse, the eti- 
quette that checks and reins deportment and bearing in mixed compa- 
nies, selects the subjects of conversation, guides the taste in regard to 
toilet, amusements, the customs of society, the arrangement of wed- 
dings, the order of funerals, and the manner of visits, — all these are 
based on certain dispositions to that which is proper, useful, and good 
in its tendency, and are the stays and supports of all social cultivation 
and life. 

b. The disposition to promote these things is more than good ; it is 
benevolent, useful, and morally right. On its cultivation, more than on 
anything else, depend the intelligence, refinement, morality, and civili- 
zation, if not the religion itself, of the community. These dispositions, 
in their right state, are of great value. In their wrong, their defective 
or excessive state, they are extremely pernicious. 

c. Fashion is the disease of civilization, as brutishness is that of 
savagery ; but nothing is more philanthropic than the cultivation of the 
utile affections, and the promotion of those things to which they dispose 
us ; and surely home conveniences and social proprieties stand as the 
first evidences of our Christian civilization. 

Third Manifestation — Public Spirit. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Public Spirit. Self-greediness. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 203 

a. The last manifestation of the utile affections is seen in Public 
Spirit. This is a broader manifestation of the dispositions just con- 
sidered, and is found'in both a selfial and a selfish state. 1 

b. It refers to things strictly useful, and also to things that are merely 
convenient or preferable in appearance, as the construction and the 
style of mechanical instruments, of dwelling-houses, of public buildings, 
carriages, the improvement of cattle and horses, the ornamenting of 
roads, parks, streets, and gardens. The useful affections here go out in 
some degree after the tasteful and the showy ; they seek that which is 
good in style, while it is good for use, and prefer it on account of its 
style. 

c. Some men have both a talent and a passion for public improve- 
ments, and take a lively interest in all public affairs. They make the 
building up and ornamentation of a town, village, or city, a matter of 
personal interest, and enjoy the occupation of a conspicuous position, 
and find a pleasure in general progress and improvement. 

d. Such men are justly called public benefactors, philanthropists, and 
reformers. They are full of liberal plans and enthusiatic projects, 
and create the life and impel the progress of the community. They are 
not rich usually, save in faith in human perfectibility, and in the suc- 
cess and advantage of their schemes for improvements. They do not 
often add much to the treasury, though often much to public progress 
in the arts, comforts, and elegances of an enlightened civilization. 

e. Indeed, when we come to enumerate the different modifications 
of this manifestation of the philanthropic affections, we shall find that 
they reach almost all human interests, and that the highest and dearest 
rights of men are thus kept and guaranteed by this, the public spirit 
and vigilance of good citizens in the exercise of their philanthropic 
affections. 

/. Only the best men rise out of themselves, and become truly public 
spirited, and feel that the community and the individual have identical 
interests. It is the best men who feel that the individual, the family, 
the community, and the state have but one interest, and who labor for 
the promotion of that interest. All this will appear when we come to 
see the high character of the manifestations of these affections. 

g. This manifestation shows itself in the following particulars, or 
modifications : — 

First Modification. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Established Government, Lawless Irregularity. 

Legislative, Judicial, Executive. Nomadic State. 



204 



AUTOLOGY. 



Second Modification. 

Selfial Stale. Selfish State. 

Equal Laws to Races, Party and Class Legislation. 
Citizens, Husbands, Wives, 
Women, Children. 

Third Modification. 

Strict and Impartial Judiciary. The Injured Revenges Himself, 

Legal Awards and Penalties Retaliation, Trial by Battle, 

decided by judge and jury, assault, assassination, 

and executed by legal officers. manslaughter, murder. 

Fourth Modification. 

Just and Legal Administration Partisan and Sectional Measures 

of Government. and Policy. 



Fifth Modification. 



Educational Institutions. 

Common, High, and Normal 
Schools, Colleges and 
Professional Schools, 
Schools for Deaf and Dumb, 
Blind, Idiotics. > 



Private and Privileged Education 
for the Wealthy. 



Free Printing, 
Free Discussion. 



Sixth Modification. 

Censorship of the Press and 
Personal Espionage. 



Seventh Modification. 
Religious Toleration, Free State Church. 

Exercise of Private Opinion, Proscription. 



Fellowship of Different 
Creeds and Sects. 



Bigotry. 
Persecution. 



Eighth Modification. 

Free Competition in Business, Monopoly. 

Trade, Manufactures, Patronage. 

Professional Practice, Social Caste. 

Political Positions, and 
all Pursuits. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 



205 



Ninth Modification. 



Selfial State. 

Public Reforms in Social Customs, 
Modes of Business, and 
Education, Temperance, 
Slavery, Prison-discipline, 
Labor, in Constitutional 
Rights and Legal Enactments. 



Selfish State. 
Organic Vices. 

Corrupt Customs. 
Constitutional Limitations. 
Unjust Laws. 



Tenth Modification. 



Intelligent Agriculture. 



Disregard of Kind or 
Quality in Soil, Seeds, 
Climate, Cattle, and 
Fruits. 



Eleventh Modification. 



Skilful Machinery and Tools, 
Mechanical and Agricultural 
Implements, Water Mills, 
Steam Mills, Factories, Engines, 
Turning Lathes, Power Looms, 
Power Printing Presses, 
Hydraulic Presses, 
Planters, Reapers, &c. 



Rude Tools of Wood and 

Stone, 
Hand Mills, 
Spinning Wheels, 
Wooden Carts, 
Wooden Ploughs, 
Wooden Hoes, 
Wooden Shovels, Knives, &c. 



Twelfth Modification. 



Useful, Elegant, and Ornamental 
Manufactures, of Woods, 
Metals, Precious Stones, 
Cloth, Paper, and Compositions. 



Home-made and Rough Fabrics 
for both Use and Ornament. 



Thirteenth Modification. 



Development of all 
Natural Resources, of 
Mines, Soils, Fruits, Grains, 
Vegetables, and Animals. 



Roaming over Nature in 
her Wild Estate, 
Living on the Wild 
Products of the Earth. 



206 



AUTOLOGY. 



Fourteenth Modification. 



Selfial. State. 

Modes of Travel and Transportation, 
Public Roads, Turnpikes, Ferries 
and Bridges, Wagons, Sleighs, 
Stage-coaches, Canals, Railroads, 
Boats, Cars, Sail-ships, 
Steamboats, Express Companies. 



Selfish State. 

Foot Travel, Saddle-horse, 
Pack-mule, Camel, 
Elephant, Reindeer, 
Dogs, Sledges, 
Caravans, Pack-pedler. 



Fifteenth Modification. 



Facilities for Carrying News, 
Governmental System of 
Mail-routes, Posts and 
Relays of Horses and 
Men, Mail-stages, 
Mail-ships, Mail-trains 
of Cars, Telegraphs. 



Personal Messengers, 
'Heralds, Nuncios, 
Despatch-bearers, 
Foot-runners, 
Post-riders, 
Carrier-pigeons, 
Signals. 



Sixteenth Modification. 



National Protection and 

Defence; The ''Science, Art, 
Instruments, Weapons, and 
Engines, Modes, Munitions, 
and Mitigations of Civilized 
Warfare. 



Single Combat. 

Rapine, Plunder, 
Fire and Sword, 
Clubs, Spears, Pikes, 
Arrows, Axes, and Knives 
of Savage Warfare. 



Seventeenth Modification. 



International Tribunals, 
Arbitration by Chosen Men 
of Different Nations. 



Diplomacy. 

Reprisals, Privateering. 

Piracy, War. 



Eighteenth Modification. 



Moral and Religious Enterprises, 
Christian Missions (Home and 
Foreign); Colonization of States, 
as in Liberia (Africa), and 
American Territories. 



Self-seeking, Covetous and 
Ambitious Pursuits, 
Strifes of Trade 
and Speculation, 
Scramble for Money. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 207 

Nineteenth Modification. 
Selfial -State. Selfish State. 

Human Brotherhood. 
World's Christian Alliance. 
World's Peace Congress. 
World's Industrial Exposition. 
World's Educational Convention. 

These sum up a These sum up a 

Civilized State. Half-Civilized and Barba- 

rous State. 

a. It is not claimed that the foregoing schedule is complete or exhaus- 
tive, nor is it needful that it should be so, nor do we deem it needful in 
this place to discuss these modifications at length. The outline of the 
manifestations here given is sufficient to show their field and scope, and 
that in all things their selfial range is lofty and pure. They have their 
excesses and their opposites, or deficiencies. We have noted in the above 
schedule chiefly the opposites, seldom the excesses of these affections. 

b. They apply, as we have stated, to public order, law, justice, 
reforms, education, free printing, religions toleration, free discussion, free 
competition, agriculture, machinery, implements, manufactures ; the de- 
velopment of mines, soils, fruits, streams, animals, to their highest 
improved state ; to all moral and religious progress and enterprise ; 
and lastly, to the internal improvements of all these natural resources 
of the country. 

c. And surely the disposition to be active, and to feel interest in all 
these things, is high and worthy, and the opposite, or the absence of 
this disposition, would be a great and pernicious defect. The excesses 
of public spirit are hardly worth pointing out. They appear sometimes 
in extravagant schemes and reckless speculations, which involve indi- 
viduals and communities in great embarrassment. 

d. Yet the difference between an enterprising and courageous man 
and an inert and timid one, is "apparent, and the difference between an 
enterprising and public-spirited town and a slow and dull one is also 
well known. The men of public spirit are the life of the world, the 
soul of all improvement. 

e. Among them are navigators and inventors, travellers and builders, 
public carriers and merchants, engineers and miners, missionaries and 
reformers. These build highways, lines of ships, railroads, and canals, 
schools, colleges, and churches, and keep the invention and the money, 
the talent and the energy, of the people at work, and secure the improve- 
ment and progress of the world in all forms of human well-being. 



208 AUTOLOGY. 



ORDER V. ^STHETICAL AFFECTIONS. 

By the sesthetical affections are meant those impulses to playful imi- 
tation which produce development, education, and recreation ; and those 
aspirings after ideal models and creations which yearn for a higher 
order and a purer quality of being and life ; and also that delight in 
sportive depreciation, which gives amusement, both by the play of wit 
and the deformity of its object. These affections are divided into three 



Class First. Playful Imitativeness, 
or a disposition to the playful imitation of any object or event. 

Class Second. Ideal Creativeness, 
or a disposition to a creative idealization of any object or event. 

Class Third. Depreciative Sportiveness, 
or a disposition to a sportive depreciation of any object or event. 

a. Playful imitativeness is the disposition to bodily and mental devel- 
opment, education, and recreation. It regards nature's pupilage. 

b. Ideal creativeness is the affection that yearns after nature's trans- 
figuration into a diviner life. 

c. Depreciative sportiveness is the mind's holiday, in which it dis- 
ports itself with all things, real and ideal, from earth to heaven, accord- 
ing to its own wayward will. 

d. It is not, however, of the intellectual power, but the affectional 
susceptibility to sesthetical truths, of which we here speak. The nature 
of sesthetical truth, the faculties for knowing it, and the different forms 
and the various departments of the subject matter of aesthetics, will all 
come up under the Intellect, in Part III. 

e. The reason, when it acts as the theorizing and the form-making 
faculty, is dependent for all the interest which the mind takes in these 
operations and productions, and for all the impulse to them, and all the 
appreciation of them, upon the affections which correspond to them ; 
and it is of these affections, these impulses, and susceptibilities to all 
sesthetical productions and operations, of which we now speak. 

f. The order of the sesthetical affections arises out of the elemental affec- 
tion of aspiringness, and out of the preceding orders of determinate affec- 
tions, as follows : The elemental affections of desirefulness, trustfulness, 
hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness, all determine 
themselves in this case through the element of aspiringness, and taking 
their characteristic from it, they flow out through all the orders of deter- 



THE AFFECTIONS. 209 

minate affections which have already been formed, — the individual, social, 
patriotic, and philanthropic, — and partake of the life and nature of each ; 
and then pass over and beyond them, and form a distinct order for them- 
selves, whose chief characterizing property is aspiringness, from which 
they are derived, and out of which, as a fountain, they flow. 

g. But as this quality alone wOuld be insufficient to form this class, it 
combines with it, as do the other orders, all the elemental affections, and 
all the orders of determinate affections which precede it, and subduing 
them all to its own characteristic, it constitutes with them its own order, 
which, thus enlarged and developed, we call eesthetical affections. 

h. Some of the properties of this order of affections appear, of course, 
in the preceding orders, as animal playfulness, and the desire for knowl- 
edge and mastery, in the individual affections ; showing that they have 
their roots deep down in the primal elements, and the lowest orders of 
our animal and mental natures, while their tall trunks and vast, arching 
branches seem to sustain the dome of the heavens themselves, and to 
blossom out in the myriad stars of its glorious firmament. 

i. The assthetical affections, as we have seen, divide themselves into 
three classes, according to their source and office. The first imitates 
for the sake of development, education, and recreation. The second 
idealizes for the sake of perfecting and beautifying. The third depre- 
ciates for the sake of the play of wit, and the sport of the ludicrous. 
The first is animal and mental ; the second is rational and imaginative ; 
the third is intellectual and t fanciful ; as follows : — 

jesthetical affections. * 

Class First. 
Selfial Slate. Selfish State. 

Playful Imitativeness. Wanton Trifling and Dissipation. 

Class Second. 

Ideal Creativeness.. Phantasms, Extravaganzas, 

Monstrosities. 

Class Third. 
Depreciative Sportiveness. Censoriousness, Cynicalness. 

These sum up These sum up 

The Highest Culture. Modishness, Dilettanteism, and 

Misanthropy. 

27 



210 AUTOLOGY. 

a. These classes have each their various manifestations, and these, 
again, their several modifications under them, of all of which we shall 
speak iu due time. Meanwhile the office of these affections varies 
according to the different stages and conditions of human life. 

b. To the young their office is development, education, and recrea- 
tion. To manhood, in its strength and freshness, it is theorizing, ideal- 
ization, and perfecting. To weariness and age it is amusement and 
rejuvenation. In all it is a superabundance of vital force and activity 
which nature has provided for beneficent ends. 

c. In this case, as in others, God has not left important ends of life to 
mere prudence or duty. He has secured them by the spontaneous 
action of an affection, which waits not for argument or motive, but in its 
own nature and joyance gushes forth in the accomplishment of a great 
design of the Creator. Developing, educating, theorizing, idealizing, 
perfecting, rejuvenating, and amusing, these are the objects to be 
accomplished by the sesthetical affections ; and they have a work to do 
all along the course of human life, from infancy to age. 

d. Blessed be the gift of the iEsthetical affections ! They are the 
growth of our childhood, the elasticity of our youth, the ideal of our 
manhood, the solace of our age. They develop us, perfect us, recreate 
us, and amuse us. They make us "in action, how like an angel; in 
apprehension, how like a god ; '■' lift up our mortal and work-a-day life 
on ideal wings to an ethereal atmosphere. They make us feel that "it 
is not the whole of life to live, nor all of death to die," and that even in 
this world "there is a life above" the bare and cold realities of being. 

Taking up, then, the first class of assthetical affections, we find them, 
with their various manifestations, as follows : — ■ 

Class First. Playful Imitativeness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Playful Imitativeness. Wanton Trifling and 

Dissipation. 

This class manifests itself in three forms : — 

First Manifestation. 
Animal and Mental Wanton Frolic. 



D 



EVELOPMENT. 



Second Manifestation. 

Animal and Mental Experimenting to the 

Education. Damage of others. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 211 



Third Manifestation. 



Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Animal and Mental Recreation. Hurtful and Vicious 

Amusements. 

a. The disposition to animal and mental imitation and playfulness 
appears in the earliest life of children and animals, as the principle of 
growth and development. Playfulness is imitation, and imitation is 
play. In the young, play always imitates something. The young kit- 
tens play in instinctive imitation of the strifes and stratagems, and 
muscular and mental feats, of mature life ; so do the young of lions 
and of dogs. Children play in imitation of parents, teachers, and nurses ; 
hence the doll, the wooden horse, the play-house, the child preacher, and 
the child school-madam. 

b. Imitation and play are, therefore, the pervading spirit and genius 
of the first or lower class of the. assthetical affections ; in the second 
class, they rise above mere imitation and play to ideal reproductions, 
creations, and perfectings, and a real and earnest endeavor after a 
higher and purer form of being ; while in the third class depreciation 
of all things, for sport or injury, is the controlling characteristic. 

First Manifestation. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Animal and Mental Development. Wanton Frolic. 

a. This disposition manifests itself in physical uneasiness and mus- 
cular activity. It also appears in mental restlessness, and lively sensi- 
bility, and a quickness of attention in all the organs of sense, The 
mind and the body of a child, the eye, the ear, the hand, are in per- 
petual activity, and the young animal is in constant motion. 

b. This activity of body and mind is purely impulsive; muscle and 
brain are in a perpetual tremor and excitement. Thus is it that nature 
develops herself, and gives strength to the young limbs, skill to the 
hands, and intelligence to the mind. 

c. Early does a playful, imitation employ all the thoughts of the 
mind, and the muscles of the body, and they both grow and mature 
themselves by imitating whatever is done in mature life, and seem to 
anticipate their own futurity. The child learns to walk, to use the 
hands, to talk, and to feed itself, and to fill up its time with a thousand 
imitations of business, pleasure, instruction, and society. 

d. All this, however, is as yet not reflective, but impulsive ; not de- 



212 AUTOLOGY. 

signed, but spontaneous activity ; and hence it is merely a developing 
and growing, and not an educating operation. It is simply vital forces 
endeavoring to embody themselves in limbs, organs, hands, brains, 
heart, and muscles. It is a disposition to animal and mental growth and 
development, in which a redundant force is worked up into body and 
brains. 

Second Manifestation. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Animal and Mental Education. Experimenting to the 

Damage of others. 

a. This disposition is only an advance on the preceding, being of the 
same nature, and differing in little else than degree, giving, as it does, 
somewhat more evidence of reflection and intent. 

b. Education is the prominent office of the disposition to imitation 
and play, both in children and in the young of all animals. Through it 
the muscles of the body and the faculties of the mind are developed 
and matured, not only, as in the preceding instance, but supplied also 
with skill, experience, and knowledge. 

c. This disposition to self-education, like that to self-development, is 
that overflowing of activity, and that exuberance of strength, and that 
gushing forth of joyous emotion, which abounds among the young and 
healthy of men and animals. In brutes it is the superabundance of an- 
imal vitality, which impels to feats of artifice, agility, strength, and 
speed. These are observable in the young of animals, especially in the 
artifices of the young of beasts of prey. 

d. By this playfulness not only are the activity and muscular strength 
increased and developed, but knowledge, and experience, and skill are 
acquired, so that an education is actually gained by which the animal is 
qualified for its own support and defence. In human beings it appears 
in all games and gymnastic exercises which call forth mental skill as 
well as physical mastery. 

e. It also flows out as mere joyance, as nature's gladness and pas- 
time, with no object but playfulness, and no impulse but pleasurable 
imitation. This class of sesthetical affections constitutes nature's gym- 
nasium, and makes its characteristic appearance in the singing of birds, 
the gambols of cattle, the sporting of lambs, and the playing of chil- 
dren, and all for the sake of education and development in muscle and 
mind. 

/. In the disposition to the development of mind and muscle, the 
action seemed totally spontaneous and unintended, simply the uneasiness 
of nature to embody her force in limb, and joint, and brain, and mem- 



THE AFFECTIONS. 213 

bers : in the disposition to education, however, there appears to be 
more ; if not in animals, yet certainly in human beings, there is some- 
what of intended activity, and the purpose withal to acquire skill and 
knowledge for future use. Hence the games of boyhood and the con- 
tests of youth. 

g. Development stops with maturity ; education advances to the ac- 
quiring of something more than a fully developed nature. The gym- 
nast, the boxer, the pugilist, the rope-dancer, the circus-rider, all have 
something more than merely the fully developed gifts of nature. 

h. So the mechanic, the scholar, the proficient in any profession or 
science, all gain something beyond development and maturity. Men in 
foot-races and ball-playing, boat-races and regattas ; musicians, artists, 
and gamesters, all seek skill, and the power which experience, and' prac- 
tice, and observation give them, as a means of securing a desired end. 
They wish to increase their power by the attainment of knowledge and 
skill ; and thus does this disposition to education rise above that of mere 
growth, and thus is it an advance in that aspiringness which is ever 
pressing upward to the highest form of being. 

i. The abuse of this disposition may be found in a reckless experi- 
menting, and a willingness to inform or gratify ourselves at the cost of 
others, or the endangering of our own health or morals. The excesses 
of vital force flow over into carelessness and sin. 

Third Manifestation. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Animal and Mental Hurtful and Vicious 

Recreation. Amusements. 

a. Nature matured, developed, and educated, when wearied with her 
task, childhood in its play, youth in its lessons, manhood in the midst 
of the burden and heat of the day, and age growing infirm and feeble, 
each and all call for change, recreation, sport, rejuvenation, release from 
toil. 

b. Now, nature has prepared this disposition for these purposes; and 
hence this affection of the mind lays the foundation for that large ten- 
dency which is so universal among the people for holidays, feast days, 
celebrations, anniversaries, commemorations, fairs, military parades, re- 
views, races, hunting, fishing, games, parties, sleigh-rides, boat-rides, 
skating. Add to these all shows, concerts, theatres, operas, balls, 
dances, circuses, bull-fights, menageries, juggleries. 

c. With what joy do we celebrate the memory of great events, great 
characters, and great achievements ! as the landing of the Pilgrims, the 
Fourth of July, the birth of Washington, the battle of Bunker Hill. 



214 AUTOLOGY. 

We build monuments to commemorate battles ; we erect statues to 
heroes and statesmen ; we build crystal palaces in which to gather the 
fabrics, inventions, masterpieces of art of the whole world ; we celebrate 
railroad completions, and the founding of schools, colleges, and benev- 
olent institutions, and all from the same generic disposition. 

d. In all this the things sought are recreation, and restoration, and 
encouragement. Whether in the individual or the object, the whole round 
of amusement has its impulse and argument here, — nature wants rest ; 
and more than rest, it wants the enjoyment of rest ; it wants not only 
strength, but the pleasure of strength ; not only achievement, but tri- 
umph, which is play, show, imitation, exhibition, abandoment, and frolic ; 
and hence this provision of nature ; nature would feel for a moment 
that her tasks are done, and that she is free and independent. 

e. The gift of the gesthetical, or playful, or imitative affections is, 
therefore, for a most beneficent purpose, and may serve the most im- 
portant ends in the work of life. This disposition becomes hurtful 
when it is made the rule instead of the exception of our life, when 
amusement becomes our business, " our being's end and aim," and when 
the kinds of amusement which we seek are immoral and degrading. 

f. Amusements can never be made either the means of serious edu- 
cation or of moral culture, from the fact that in their nature they are 
relaxing, while all education is stringent. In the one case, the mind is 
strung up, and in the other, unstrung ; and an unstrung harp or violin 
might as well be expected to give forth good music, or an unbent bow 
to send forth an effective arrow, as a mind in recreation or amusement 
to make an effective effort in any mental or moral acquisition. The 
thing is absurd. 

g. The sportive affections, animal and mental playfulness or imita- 
tiveness, are employed for recreation, are for relaxation, and do their 
good as a relaxation, which is always negative, and not positive. When 
play is made an end of life, it degenerates into a vice, arid is seen in 
idleness, dissipation, and wantonness. 

h. The man to whom amusement is a business, and sport a pursuit, 
becomes an idler, if not a reveller, and is degraded, if not debauched. 
The sportive affections do not contemplate any serious end of life as 
such, but they act involuntarily, and are only a means to an end, and 
that indirectly. 

ORDER V. ^STHETICAL AFFECTIONS. 

Class Second. Ideal Creativeness. 

Selfial Stale. Selfish State. 

Ideal Creativeness. Phantasm, Extravaganzas, 

Monstrosities. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 215 

a. In this class of the sesthetical affections we rise above the real, 
and all its developing, educating, and re-creating processes,* to the ideal. 
The mind here is engaged in the transformation of the real into the 
ideal ; in the creative reproductions, the enhancings, perfecting^, theoriz- 
ings, and inventions of the ideal. 

b. The first class of sesthetical affections is moved by a living soul ; 
this second is animated by a quickening spirit ; the former is of the 
earth, and earthy ; this second is of the fire of heaven. Flesh and blood, 
and animal spirit, and physical life had most to do with the first class ; 
imagination, and reason, and genius have most to do with the second. 

c. This class of the sesthetical affections includes the whole of our 
idealistic susceptibilities. By it the force and faculties of our rational 
nature rise above mere maturity and health, and ascend from the com- 
petency of the real to the greater perfectness of the ideal. It here be- 
comes the love of the true, the love of the sublime, the love of the 
beautiful, and manifests itself in scientific theories, and mathematical 
demonstrations, and in all sesthetical forms, as in poetry and the drama, 
fiction and romance, music, painting, and sculpture, theories and inven- 
tions. 

d. To the operation of this affection upon our rational nature we owe 
all our culture in the regions of taste and art, and in philosophy and 
medicine. In it man is lifted above all the other affections, — the 
individual, the social, the patriotic, and the philanthropic, — and has no 
further thought of acquisition, defence, or usefulness ; but triumphing in 
competence and conscious power, all unexhausted and inexhaustible, he 
rises above toil,- above fear, and above acting for an end, and acts for 
the sake of acting, toils for the sake of toiling ; that is, he plays with 
the superabundance of his strength, and the surplus of his intellectual 
power. 

e. As this affection, in the preceding classes, sported with the exuber- 
ance of animal and vital force, so now it exults in the overflow of intel- 
lectual life and activity. The Eesthetical affection lays hold of the 
reason, and plays with science and the arts. It rises and " ascends the 
highest heaven of invention," and produces ideal forms of scientific 
theories, poetic imagery, and dramatic action. It shapes beauty upon 
the canvas, and chisels life out of the marble, and moulds divine thought 
into music. 

/. This affection lives for the sake of living, and acts for the feake of 
acting. It is more than life, and more than action, it is creative ; it 
creates an ideal world, and fills it with an ideal life, all beautiful and 
supersensuous, in which all the ideas of the perfect are embodied, and 
all the conceptions of taste and completeness are realized, in the forms 
of being and action. 



216 AUTOLOGY. 

g. The existence of this susceptibility is found in childhood, espe- 
cially in its dramatic aspects. As we have found in the former chapter, 
children are perpetually imitating, personifying, and representing the 
characters and scenes of real life ; and among those of an adult age, 
the illusions of an ideal happiness are a constant lure for the future, and 
solace for the past. 

h. This class of gesthetical affections has five manifestations, with 
their subordinate modifications and expressions, as appears in the fol- 
lowing schedule. 

Class Second. Ideal Creativeness. 

Manifestations. 
First Manifestation. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Ideal Theorizingness, Dreaminess, 

Philosophizing,. . Illusiveness, 

Building up Systems of Religion, Impracticableness. . 

Philosophy, Science, Government, Craziness. 

and Morals ; and a 
Philosophy comprehending all. 

Second Manifestation. 

Ideal Inventiveness,' Routine, 

as of Instruments, Automaton, 

Machinery, Engines, Rude Tools and Vehicles, 

Steamboats, Railroads, Caravans, Hand Labor, 
Telegraphs, Factories, Forges. instead of Machinery. 

Third Manifestation. 

Ideal Reproductiveness, Burlesque, 

Reproducing History and Buffoonery. 

Nature in the Drama, 

Poetry, Song, Painting, 

and Sculpture. 

Fourth Manifestation. 

Ideal Enhanciveness, Exaggeration, 

Enhancing, Magnifying Extravagance, 

Character, or Forms of Bombast, Caricature, 

Nature, or a Capability Untruth, Misrepresen- 

of being moved by the • tation, Falsehood. 
Sublime. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 211 

Fifth Manifestation. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Ideal Perfectiveness, Prettiness, 

Perfecting and Beautifying Conceits, 

Nature according to the Ideals Finicalness. 

of the Mind, either in Architec- 
ture, Painting, Sculpture, Music, 
Poetry, or the Drama. 

This sums up the . This belongs to 

Highest Culture. Barbaric Show and 

Eudeness. 

We now take up the manifestations of Ideal Creativeness in order. . 

First Manifestation — Ideal Theorizingness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Ideal Theorizingness, Dreaminess, 

Philosophizing, Building up Illusiveness, 

Systems of Keligion, Philos- ' Impracticableness, 

ophy, Science, Government, Craziness. 
and Morals' ; and a Philos- 
ophy comprehending all. 

a. The disposition to theorize, and the susceptibility to pleasure in 
theorizing, these are the spring of "that hope of a philosophy which is 
the last infirmity of noble minds." It finds a pleasure in elaborating 
complete theories, and scientific systems of law, theology, government, 
nature, and the mind. 

b. This disposition is not the love of knowledge, or curiosity for facts 
and incidents ; but it is a pleasurable interest in constructing ideal 
theories of any and all sciences, with or without reference to their prac- 
tical character or tendency. 

c. It is altogether of the imaginative or idealistic kind, and science 
here becomes one of the fine arts. This susceptibility fills the world 
with real, learned,' and profound philosophers, and also with Utopians 
and dreamers, whose systems and theories can have being only in cloud- 
land, and can never be a reality. 

d. This affection may be in excess, in deficiency, or in perversion ; 
and in each ease is wrong. "Beware," says Paul, "lest any man 
spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, 
after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ." Thus a vain 
philosophizing may be sinful ; so may also a neglect of true philosophy ; 

" 28 



218 AUTOLOGY. 

and so may any excess or perversion. Sometimes its excess is a men- 
tal disease, its absence a guilty stupidity, and its misuse a crime. 

Second- Manifestation — Ideal Inventiveness. 

Selfial State. • Selfish State. 

Ideal Inventiveness, Eoutine, 

as of Instruments, Automaton, 

Machinery, Engines, Eude Tools and Vehicles, 

Steamboats, -Eailroads, Caravans, Hand Labor, 

Telegraphs, Factories, instead of Machinery. 
Forges. 

a. Inventiveness differs from theorizingness, in that it is practical ; 
that is, it actually produces the thing which is invented. It combines 
in itself both theory and execution in the production of some new form 
of machinery, or some new instrument for mechanical use. 

b. To invent is to find first the principle, and then to adjust the 
subordinate parts, and so to construct and complete a piece of machinery 
as that, when done, it will work, and actually execute the thing for 
which it was designed. There is here required some practical skill as 
well as original theorizing; and hence inventiveness may.be defined as 
theorizingness combined with practical skill. 

c. Inventiveness requires a quick and acute discernment of relations, 
and a turning of them to the account of some particular object. The 
disposition to do this is innate and strong in some individuals, and 
exists, in a degree, in all minds. 

d. The invention of the telegraph was the shrewd application of that 
fact in electricity by which motion is produced, to the purposes of 
communicating intelligence. The fact was known, and the lucky 
thought now applied it to the purpose of sending messages. Here the 
invention was not a mere theory, but the quick application of the fact 
to a practical purpose. 

e. This is inventing, as differing from theorizing. Theorizing seeks 
no practical result, but simply loves to theorize for the pleasure of 
theorizing ; while inventing is also a desire for a practical result. 

f. This affection may have a diseased excess, a culpable deficiency, 
or a perverted use, when it spends itself on iniquitous objects. The 
man who invents an infernal machine sins. The man who wastes 'his 
time in idle invention sins. The man who opposes all new inventions 
will sin against all progress, all improvement, and all civilization ; and, 
of course, sins against humanity. 

g. The making of machines, or furniture, simply for their curiousness 



THE AFFECTIONS. 219 

or novelty, is a waste of time and skill, and is wrong ; so also the per- 
sistent abiding in the ruts of old routine is a wrong ; but "to find out 
knowledge of witty inventions " for use has always been a virtue, 
from Tubal Cain to Fulton and Morse. 

Third Manifestation — Ideal Reproductiveness. 
"Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Creative Reproductiveness, Burlesque. 

Reproducing FIistory and Buffoonery. 

Nature in the Drama, 
Poetry, Song, Music, 
Painting, and Sculpture. 

a. The fondness for dramatic representation, as already observed, 
appears in childhood as the earliest form of mental development, and 
shows the predominance of the imitative and sympathetic propensity in 
the human mind. 

b. The mind, in imagining, imitates, magnifies, and beautifies ; in 
other words, it dramatizes, enhances, and perfects. The susceptibility 
to the first of these is, in its lower stages, one of the earliest mani- 
festations of the human mind. 

c. In the first class of the aesthetic affections the real is imitated for 
purposes of development, education, and recreation, but it does not aim 
beyond the real. In this class there is a creative reproduction of the 
real by which it is enhanced and perfected, and represented to us, not as 
it is, but as it might be, and according to our conceptions of fitness, and 
what ought to be, or of the possible. 

d. This difference between imitating the real and the creative repro- 
duction of the real — which is the ideal — cannot be too clearly marked, 
or positively insisted upon. The one is little more than mere mechanics ; 
the other is art ; the one, real ; the other, ideal ; and the ideal is often 
truer than the real. 

e. The dram a,, therefore, is the creative idealization and reproduction 
of the real through a sympathetic imagination which makes our own 
persons the subject of its activity, transforming us into the semblance 
of the real characters represented, especially when we are actors. 

/. The dramatic, which, in its elementary state, appears earliest in 
childhood, is also the . first in the history of the growth of nations. 
Dramatic representations in some crude form, as well as rude attempts 
at sculpture and painting, appear in the first stages of a nation's prog- 
ress, even before civilization begins. We see it in savage life, some- 
times, as one of nature's provisions for educating and refining men. 



220 AUTOLOGY. 

g. The natural sympathy or imitativeness upon which it depends is 
one of our most serviceable faculties in acquiring the. first rudiments of 
education ; and the ideal forms and scenes of action that are ever play- 
ing before the minds of the young, the active, the ambitious, are their 
greatest stimulants and most perfect models for action and attainment. 

h. This same susceptibility to ideal reproductions and creations shows 
itself also in a love of poetry and song, fiction and romance, painting 
and sculpture ; and though all these, as representations of real life, char- 
acter, and action, belong to the merely imitative, and not to the ideally- 
creative faculty, yet even in this lowest stage they show the suscepti- 
bility to artistic representations, and the universality of the aesthetic 
affections in the human soul ; while in the higher forms they raise man 
above the real, and .approach the sacred regions of the supernatural 
and the divine. The susceptibility to dramatic representation is thus 
a well-known and universally recognized element of our affectional 
nature. 

Fourth Manifestation — Ideal Enhanciveness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Ideal, Enhanciveness, Exaggeration, Extravagance, 

Enhancing and Magnifying Bombast, 

Character, Action, or Forms Caricature, 

of Nature, or a Capability Untruth, 

of being moved by Misrepresentation, 

the Sublime. Falsehood. 

a. Enhanciveness is the susceptibility to the sublime. It is that form 
of the sesthetical affections which is susceptible to impressions of the 
vast, the grand, the powerful, the sublime in nature, in art, in poetry, 
description, or oratory. No susceptibility of the mind is better known 
than this. Enhanciveness is the disposition to magnify the real, and is. 
subjectively called the sublime. 

b. Perfectiveness, which is the next manifestation, is the perfecting of 
the real, and is subjectively called the beautiful. Perfectiveness is an 
affection for the beautiful, just as enhanciveness is an affection for the 
sublime. In forming the sublime, we simply enhance the real ; in form- 
ing the beautiful, we perfect the real, either as it is first found, or after 
it is enhanced into the sublime. 

c. There is sublimity in the ocean, the Alps, Niagara. There is 
sublimity in the tramp of hosts, the shock of battle, the distant roll of 
thunder. There is that which stirs our susceptibility to the sublime in 
courage and daring. Luther before the Roman legate, Knox thundering 



THE AFFECTIONS. . 221 

the truth to a corrupt court, stir the affection and raise the emotion of 
the sublime. Anything that is lofty, unlimited, vast in altitude, magni- 
tude, or power, to our apprehension, affects our susceptibility to the 
sublime. 

d. The humblest and the most uncultivated have this affection as 
prominently as the most refined. 

"The poor Indian, whose untutored mind 
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind, 
Whose soul proud Science never taught to stray 
Far as the solar walk, or milky way," 

feels as deeply moved with the sublime as does a Milton or a Dante. 

e. The reason, through the imagination, magnifies the real up to ideal 
vastness ; it sublimates, and in this magnifying, this sublimating, the 
susceptibility in question feels a pleasurable movement. This manifesta- 
tion of the sesthetical affections we call enhanciveness, and find it 
strongly marked as a distinct and original affection of the mind. 

/. The misuse of this affection runs into exaggeration, extravagance, 
bombast, caricature, untruth, misrepresentation, falsehood, the moral 
character of which is obvious. The excess is both folly and sin ; the 
deficiency is more than mere defect ; the perversion is false and wicked. 

Fifth Manifestation — Ideal Perfectiveness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Perfectiveness, Prettiness, 

Perfecting and Beautifying Nature, Conceit, 

according to the ideals of the flnicalness, 

Mind, in Architecture, Sculpture, Dilettanteism. 

Poetry, Painting, Music, and the 

Drama. 

a. Perfectiveness is the susceptibility to the beautiful, and a propen- 
sity to beautify objects and forms of life and manners around us. This 
susceptibility to some form of beauty, and this propensity to beautify, 
are universal affections of the human mind. 

b. The existence of this susceptibility is vastly more marked in some 
individuals than in others; but as all have an idea. of perfectness, or 
beauty, and as all have some degree of knowledge or taste as to what 
is beautiful,- so all have the capability of being affected by what in their 
apprehension is beautiful ; and all have also a disposition to beautify, 
according to their own ideas and tastes as to what is beautiful. 

c. This susceptibility is just as genuine in him who " sees Helen's 
beauty in a brow of Egypt," as in him who can see it only in the Venus 



222 AUTOLOGY. 

de Medicis ; and in all, the idea is the model, and the taste is the rule, 
and the susceptibility is the impulse to perfectness and beauty in what- 
ever may be the object sought. 

d. The beautiful in some form is everybody's ideal, and everybody's 
desire. It is the loftiest of all merely selfial ideals, and the love for it 
is the highest of all the purely selfial affections. The mind that dwells 
among ideals of the sublime and beautiful, and feels a lively interest and 
pleasure in them, will not be very low, though it will not be raised to 
the skies in point of -moral character. 

e. The highest forms of the merely beautiful are yet below the ethical, 
and the heart that loves beauty only is still far from God, and utterly 
destitute of moral excellence. This is not the place to show what the 
beautiful is, or what the sublime is ; that belongs to another part of this 
work, and will come up in its place, in the intellectual department. 

/. It may, however, be here said, in passing, that beauty is the con- 
formity of the external figure and manifestation of an object to its 
generic idea. Some objects, it must be observed., have not a complete 
generic idea; they are deficient both in idea unci in form. 

g. The human soul is the model of beauty. Beauty coalesces with 
the perfect, and is always above and higher than the sublime. The sub- 
lime is a disproportionate and fragmentary vastness of bulk or power, 
which we cannot see beyond, aud which wo cannot conform to our ideal, 
because it is too great ; while the beautiful is that which we can conform 
to our ideal. 

h. By supplying the wanting parts of the disproportionate and frag- 
mentary vastness of bulk or power before us, we may carry up the sublime 
and perfect it into the beautiful. The sublime is thus a disproportionate 
enhancement of the real, while the beautiful is a perfecting of it. The 
sublime is that which overwhelms us by its greatness ; the beautiful 
charms us by its perfectness. Of the sublime we see only a part ; of . 
the beautiful we see the whole. 

i. But of this elsewhere : we here treat of the susceptibility alone. 
The beautiful is not in itself either virtuous or vicious. Our regard for 
it, and interest in it, may be excessive, defective, or perverted. 

j. To love beauty, as such, is not to love truth, the right, the just, 
the obedient, and consequently is no proof of good moral character. 
To place beauty for God and the right is sin. To disregard it altogether 
is to sin against perfectness, and to prefer the imperfect. 



THE AFFECTIONS. .223 

ORDER V. iESTHETICAL AFFECTIONS. 

Class Third. Depreciative Sportiveness. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Sportive Depreciation of ant Censoriousness, 

Object or Event,. Cynicalness. 

a. This class of the sesthetical affections stands in contrast with the 
two preceding classes ; for while the first imitates the real, and the 
second enhances and beautifies it into the ideal, the third depreciates 
and deforms both the real and the ideal into the ludicrous. 

b. This class of sesthetical affections manifests itself in three 
forms : — 

Manifestations. 
First Manifestation. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Wittiness. Waggery, Mockery. 

Second Manifestation. 
Ludicro'usness. Ridicule. 

Third Manifestation. 
Satiricalness. Vituperation. 

This sums up This sums up 

Recreation. Heartless Merriment. 

a. The delight of the mind in the witty and the ludicrous stands in 
curious contrast with its delight in the sublime* and beautiful ; for while 
the sublime enhances and the beautiful perfects its object, the witty 
and the ludicrous depreciate and deform it. As the former are superior, 
so are the latter inferior, to the real, while each may be superlative in 
its way. 

b. All satirical and comic plays, farces* poems, and songs, as those of 
Shakespeare, Sheridan, Pope, Byron, Butler, and others, and all comic 
paintings, as those of Hogarth, are illustrations of this characteristic of 
the witty and the ludicrous ; as, on the other hand, Paradise Lost, 
and Childe Harold, the " Last Judgment " of Angelo, and the "Trans- 
figuration" of Raphael, are illustrations of the sublime and the 
beautiful. 

c. They show that wit depreciates and that the ludicrous deforms its 



224 AUTOLOGY. 

object sportively, while the sublime enchances and the beautiful perfects 
its object seriously. 

d. Taking up, then, the first manifestation of the disposition to a 
sportive depreciation of its object, we find as follows : — 

First Manifestation. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Wittiness. Waggery, Mockery. 

a. Wit is the sportive depreciation of an object for the sake of 
enjoying the play of its own acuteness. It is not, therefore, malicious 
depreciation, but a playful one — " only for fun." 

b. For if it is not sportive, but serious, then it is not simply wit, but 
mockery, which is the selfish and evil side of wit, and is both wounding 
and wicked. Cruel wit is mockery, low wit is waggery. It is spor- 
tiveness, as opposed to mockery, that makes a saying wit, in distinction 
from slander, detraction, and backbiting ; and it is reserve and polite- 
ness, as opposed to waggery, that makes a saying wit, in distinction 
from scurrility and buffoonery. The abuses of wit are obvious. 

c. A disposition to wit is not wrong : the power of wit may be 
serviceable ; but its perversions are sinful and cruel. Instances illus- 
trating these views are abundant. The witty Sydney Smith facetiously 
said in company, by way of merriment, " You cannot get a joke through 
a Scotchman's head without a surgical operation." This is certainly a 
playful depreciation of the object for the sake of enjoying the acuteness 
of wit, on the one hand ; and on the other, as a specimen of the ludicrous, 
it is a sportive depreciation of the object for the sake of enjoying the 
incongruity and absurdity of the representation. 

d. When some one, alluding playfully to the physical proportions of 
Christopher North, who was as remarkable for his physical beauty as 
for his intellectual power, said, " He is a splendid beast," it is the wit 
that is enjoyed, or chiefly this, for there is nothing sufficiently ludicrous 
even in a "splendid beast" (as the horse) to make it a specimen of the 
ludicrous, though it is, of course, a depreciation of the object for the sake 
of enjoying the play and the flash of wit. 

Second Manifestation. 
Selfial State. Selfish Stale. 

LUDICROUSNESS. RlDICULE. 

a. A disposition to the ludicrous leads us to enjoy the sportive 
depreciation of an object on account of the ludicrousness or deformity 



THE AFFECTIONS. 225 

of the object so depreciated. It enjoys the monstrous, the incongruous. 
It always places its object in false lights, relations, and proportions, and 
then laughs at it. 

b. This also must always be sportive, and not serious, else it would 
be ridicule and degradation. That which is ludicrous must always be 
that which is capable of being better. The sport is, that it is a false 
and unnecessary incongruity, or deformity, and has full power to be 
otherwise, and that the deformed shape, awkward position, or incon- 
gruity of relation, is not calamity, or scarcely a fault, but inadvertency, 
and therefore an object of fun and merriment, and not of commiseration 
or reproach. 

c. Were it otherwise, it would be heartless ridicule and cruel 
mockery. The ludicrous, then, is a deforming of its object for the sake 
of enjoying the deformity. The ludicrous differs from the witty, there- 
fore, in that the latter enjoys the act of sportive depreciation, while the 
former enjoys the state of sportive incongruity. 

d. Wit depreciates the object about which it is witty ; but it enjoys 
rather the flash of its own acuteness than the depreciation of its object. 
The ludicrous depreciates its object also, but it delights in the deformity 
of the object depreciated, rather than in the act of wit that depreciates. 
Wit enjoys the cause ; the ludicrous enjoys the effect. 

e. When a sentimental hearer said to Dr. Robert South, " Don't you 
think I'll be saved ? I love to hear sermons," the somewhat unclerical 
doctor replied, " Yes, if a man could be pulled up to heaven by the 
ears." Here the disposition to wit enjoys the acuteness of the doctor, 
while the disposition to the ludicrous enjoys the awkward position of the 
sentimental hearer. 

Third Manifestation. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Satiricalness. Vituperation. 

a. Sarcasm in its best estate may sometimes be used to shame vice, 
and to scourge the wicked, but for the most part its use cannot be 
recommended. 

b. It seldom produces happy results in the hands of men. Error is 
sometimes made conscious of its own weakness, vice of its deformity, 
and the wrong-doer of his bwn hatefulness, by sarcasm ; but, as a rule, ' 
the disposition which it engenders, even when so employed, is not 
good, and often becomes worse than the evil which it destroys. 

c. In its perverted state it becomes vituperation ; into this it easily 
degenerates, and as such it is one of the worst forms of vice. Of those 
guilty of this vice, the apostle says, " Their throat is an open sepulchre ; 

29 



226 4UT0L0GY. 

with their tongues they have used deceit ; the poison of asps is under 
their lips ; whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness ; their feet are 
swift to shed blood ; destruction and misery are in their ways ; and the 
way of peace have they not known ; there is no fear of God before 
their eyes." 

d. Thus we have passed through the whole extent of the sesthetieal 
affections, and viewed them in their different phases, as, first, relating to 
real things ; secondly, to ideal things ; and thirdly, to things neither 
real nor ideal, but a depreciation of both. 

e. Under the first, we found the assthetical affections as developing- 
ness, educativeness, and recreativeness. Under the second, we found 
them as ideal theorizingness, ideal inventiveness, ideal reproductiveness, 
ideal enhanciveness, and ideal perfectness. And in the third class, we 
found them as a playful depreciation of both the real and the ideal, 
showing itself in the witty, the ludicrous, and the sarcastic — the witty 
delighting in its own flash, and the ludicrous in the deformity of the 
object which it laughs at, and the sarcastic in the pain which it inflicts 
on its object. 

f. And this exhausts this order of affections. That, as an order, these 
affections have an actual existence, we have frequent proof in this, that 
many have the disposition to imitate, and to idealize, and invent, who 
have not the talent to do so. Many would be sublime if they could ; 
many would beautify if they could ; they would be witty if they could ; 
but they have not the capability for either. That they have the affec- j 
tion, the desire, for all these things, is very manifest. 

g. And it is easy here to see how many may think themselves musi- 
cians, poets, orators, artists, philosophers, and inventors, because they 
feel an interest in these things, but mistake the capability of being 
affected by these things for the genius that produces them. To be af- 
fected by music, and to be keenly alive to it, is one thing ; to be a musi- 
cian is quite another. To be delighted with poetry is one thing ; to be 
able to write poetry is quite another thing. To be thrilled and awed, 
softened and enraged, by an orator is one thing ; to be an orator, capable 
of affecting others in this way, is another thing. 

h. The disposition to write poetry, to sing, to paint, to invent, to 
theorize, may very readily spring up from the susceptibility of being 
affected by these things ; but the susceptibility, though it may give the 
disposition, cannot give the capability of succeeding in any of these 
departments. 

i. The peculiar vices to which this class of affections is exposed are, 
first, connoisseurship, which is the making of the gratification of the 
eesthetical affections an end, and the end instead of the right and 
morally obligatory ; and, second, intellectual pride and presumption, in 



THE AFFECTIONS. 221 

venturing upon theories, opinions, experiments, and creeds, which to our 
apprehension are fair appearing, but which are in reality opposed to 
God's revealed word and command. 

j. By claiming for themselves to know the extent and the tendency 
of good and evil, and rejecting God's commandments and limitations, 
and venturing upon the experiment, our first parents fell ; and so men 
will ever sin when they put art or ornament, beauty or amusement, for 
the end of life, or a mere speculative theory for the word of God. The 
sesthetical affections have a legitimate use, but m&y be wretchedly per- 
verted to evil. 

k. Lastly, wit may be presumptuousness, impiousness, and mockery. 
When unbridled, it neither fears God nor regards man, but is cruel in 
ridicule, savage in sarcasm, and sacrilegious in its profanation of that 
which is holy. 

ORDER Vi: RELIGIOUS AFEECTIONS. 

Introduction. 

a. By the religious affections is here meant, not the state of the 
renewed heart, according to the Christian faith and the experience of 
Christian souls, but the natural dispositions of the mind to religion, to 
worship God, and to regard immortality, and to provide for it. 

'b. Man's religious nature leads him to regard himself as a soul, an 
immortal spirit, answerable to God above him, and destined to an eternal 
world, where his condition will be assigned by God's authority, accord- 
ing to deeds and character in this life ; and it is man's susceptibility in 
relation to these things of which we now speak. 

c. That which is called the work of divine grace is not here at all 
considered, but simply the affections of the human heart, which occupy 
themselves about religion, whether in pagan or Christian, civilized or 
savage men ; and that, whether these men be theists or atheists, in- 
fidels or believers. 

d. Nor do we here consider man's ethical nature, but only his affec- 
tional nature. We here omit the conscience, and leave it to be discussed 
in Part IV., after the intellect, and apart and alone, as distinct entirely 
from the affections as such. 

e. The ethical nature of man is as distinct from his affectional nature 
as is the will from the affections, or the intellect from either ; and as 
much confusion and mischief have been occasioned by mingling the 
affections and the conscience, as by mixing the will with the affections. 
They stand eternally distinct. The conscience 'and the heart are as 
opposite as the intellect and the heart, or the will and the heart. 



228 AUTOLOGY. 

f. These four departments of the mind should never be confounded ; 
if they are, we can neither know the mind aright, nor anything that the 
mind knows. If we confound these several departments of the mind, 
we confound thereby all the truth and all the knowledge that come 
through them into the mind ; and to this source more than to any 
other are attributable the hurtful errors, especially in morals, religion, 
and politics, that curse the human race. 

g. We now take up the religious affections, as such ; and they are 
called religious, not because they ar.e right or wrong, pious or impious, 
but because they have to do with the religious relations, duties, and con- 
ditions of the soul, more particularly than the other affections. They 
are neither right nor wrong, ethically considered ; nor are the}' pious or 
impious, but capable of being either. 

h. In their nature they are our susceptibilities to religious influences, 
truths, and conditions, in which man regards himself as a soul, God as 
above him, and eternity as before him ; and they are precisely the same, 
in their relation to religion, as the assthetical affections are to aesthetics, 
the philanthropic to philanthropy, and the social affections to kindred 
and society. 

i. We therefore take them up in the sam Q way, and show their 
origin and constituents, their nature and their office. Vfhen these affec- 
tions are in their selfial state, we have simply a religious man, and not a 
selfish man. His religion, however, is not ethical, but natural ; not just 
or merciful, but' only like parental affections,' good and affectional, 
negatively right, in relation to law and equity ; positively good, as flow- 
ing from an affectionate heart, just as parental, and filial, and amical 
affections, when they flow from the same source, are good, but not 
ethical. 

j. We do not here speak of the Christian religion, or of pagan 
religion, or of theism, or of atheism, but of man's natural capability of 
holding either, so far as his affections are concerned. The work of God's 
spirit and grace in the heart is no part of the subject-matter of this chap- 
ter,. Nor do we here say anything of the conscience, as an element of 
true religion, nor of man's religious state as a subject of grace. 

k. That there can be no true religion without man's, ethical nature, 
and none in which right and wrong, guilt and innocence, are not con- 
sidered, is most true ; and that these belong to the conscience or the 
ethical nature of man is also true ; but these are not the topics of this 
chapter. 

I. What true religion is, and what it is to be truly a good man in the 
sight of God, will come up at the close of Part IV., in which the 
ethical faculty of man, as the last and highest capability of his nature, 
is discussed, and where we have the whole human mind, in. all its 



THE AFFECTIONS. 229 

faculties, before us, and have thus all the means of showing what a truly 
good man is. In order to be truly good, a man must be good i:i his 
whole nature and in the exercise of all his faculties of wilt, heart, intel- 
lect, and conscience. He must be good in freedom, good. in affections, 
good in intelligence, good in conscience. He must in all things be just, 
and holy, and good, doing justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly. 

m. Now, that man has a religious nature, apart from his conscience 
or ethical nature, the history of the world is px-oof ; and that religious- 
ness is neither conscientiousness nor godliness, is equally matter of 
known history. Religiousness in man, at its best estate as such, is but 
the mere correlative of the infinite'; that is, it is the mere susceptibility 
to an impression of awe and reverence, and other emotions in reference 
to the infinite*. 

n. Man is a religious being ; he will worship something ; he will 
always have a God of some sort, good or bad. Paganism in all its 
forms is proof of this, and the myriad superstitions, the untold thou- 
sands of rites, penances, and sacrifices which men believe in and inflict 
on themselves, are proof of their unconquerable disposition to worship 
something. 

o. Now, the question arises, Should mere religiousness, or mere dispo- 
sition to worship, govern the whole life of man, and be the end of his 
being? It certainly should not, for the mere disposition to worship, 
mere religiousness, could as well be gratified by worshipping the devil- 
as by worshipping the God of heaven. 

p. Mere religiousness has, therefore, not only no moral virtue, no 
ethical value, but is no safe end of being. Hindoos, Mohammedans, and 
pagans are all notoriously more religious and devout than Christians. 
So, among Christians, Catholics are more devout than Protestants. 

q. In fact, just in proportion as men are ignorant and degraded, just 
in that proportion are they under the sway of a mere religiosity or su- 
perstition ; and such religiousness is compatible with ignorance, oppres- 
sion, cruelty, and vice of every form aud of every degree. 

r. Mere religiousness, then, is not a moral or ethical virtue, nor the 
true governing power of the mind ; nor is intelligent religiousness the 
true governing affection ; for the case is not changed ; it is mere reli- 
giousness still. The fact that it is intelligent only elevates it from wor- 
shipping a block, to worshipping a brute or a star, or perchance the 
true God ; but it does not change it from mere worshipping of some- 
thing ; and simply a disposition to worship is not man's highest suscep- 
tibility ; nor is man's highest susceptibility that, the bare gratification 
of which is good in itself, nor is that which is merely good in itself the 
true end of man's being. 

s. That man should be disposed to worship, is indicative of both his 



230 AUTOLOGY. 

weakness and his strength ; of both his lowliness of condition and his 
exaltation of nature ; for it shows that he recognizes alike his depen- 
dence and his high origin. He is disposed to believe' because he can- 
not know all ; and he is disposed to worship, because he appreciates 
that which is high ; and he is willing to submit, because he finds his 
own weakness, and that he is in the hands of a higher power. 

/. But it is only when, as the source and centre of all this, he recog- 
nizes his own God as author, creator, lawgiver, saviour, and judge, 
that he becomes a true worshipper, and religion becomes a moral and 
ethical virtue But this requires a higher element of the mind than 
mere religious affections, something higher than the mere love of happi- 
ness — even the conscience, and the love of the right, with emotion and 
action thereto befitting and belonging. ' 

u. We now take up the affections which have to do with religious 
emotions, states, and considerations, whose office it is to respond to reli- 
gious truth, duty, charity, and work. We consider them simply as 
susceptibilities which nature has given to respond to, and be exercised 
by, religious things. And in considering them we begin with their ori- 
gin and components. 

t. The religious affections grow out of all the other affections, and 
partake of the nature of them all ; they ave the last and highest range 
of human susceptibilities, and complete the whole of man's affectional 
nature. This order of affections, as do all the preceding orders, arises 
out of an elementary affection, through which all the other elementary 
affections are for the time being determined; viz., Rcverentialness. 

w. This is the last of the elementary affections, and the source, foun- 
tain, and correlative of the last order of determinate affections — the Re- 
ligious affections. 

x. In order that it may fully appear that the religious affections are 
made up of all the other affections, and are indeed an outgrowth, a ma- 
turing and culmination of them all, we hei*e give at length the whole 
process of their development, from beginning to end. It will then be 
manifest that religiousness is indigenous to the human heart. 

y. The order of Religious Affections has its genesis on this wise : 
Starting in that fountain of all affectional life, that head and centre of 
all the affections, Desirefulness, it flows out and develops from itself 
trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and then reveren- 
tialness. Each of these is developed from all the rest. Then all these 
six elemental affections, combining, determine themselves through rever- 
entialness, and passing through each of the orders of determinate affec- 
tions, and partaking of the nature of each, go out beyond them all, and 
form the order of Religious affections, which is the last outflow of the 
human heart. Thus the religious affections are compounded of all the 



THE AFFECTIONS. 231 

other affections of the heart. Though distinguishable from the rest, yet 
are they made up of all the rest, and derive their life from all the rest. 

1. All the elemental affections combine in and determine themselves 
through reverentialness. 

2. Reverentialness diffuses itself through all the Individual affections, 
in all their classes and manifestations ; viz., the self-sustentative, the 
self-defensive, the self-acquisitive, and the self-annunciative, with all 
their various subordinate manifestations. 

3. Reverentialness, partaking of all these individual affections, and 
being enlarged by them, passes over and expands into the Social affec- 
tions, mingling with all their classes of marital, parental, fraternal, and 
amical affections, with all their manifestations respectivelj-. 

4. Reverentialness, being thus modified and expanded by the social 
affections, goes over still into the broader region of the Patriotic affec- 
tions, combining with them in their classes of raceal, social, cultal, and 
national affections, and mixing with all their subdivided forms of mani- 
festation. 

5. Taking on the larger and more liberal life of the patriotic affec- 
tions, reverentialness, flows over still, into the wider and deeper sea of 
the Philanthropic affections; and here infusing itself into the great 
classes of humane and utile affections, it pervades all the- pity for the 
suffering, help for the needy, kindness for the undeserving, forbearance 
for the erring, and charity for all, which belong to the former class, and 
enters into all the sympathy for home conveniences, social proprieties, 
and public spirit. which belong to the latter class. 

6. Absorbing into itself all the philanthropic affections, and bearing 
them on its own current, reverentialness ri§es still, and flows over into 
the more elevated and beautiful crystal waters of the vEsthetical affec- 
tions. Here reverentialness mingles, clarifies, and transmutes itself into 
all the classes of assthetical affections, viz., playful imitativeness, ideal 
creativeness, and sportive depreciativeness. It then absorbs into itself 
the dispositions to animal and mental development, education and recre~ 
ation, of the first class, and all ideal reproductiveness, enhanciveness, 
perfectiveness, theorizingness, and inventiveness, of the second, and all 
the disposition to wittiness, ludicrousness, and satiricalness, of the third. 

7. Being lifted up, enlarged, and transformed by the assthetical affec- 
tions, reverentialness flows. out a clear and beautiful stream, and forms 
itself into the pure deep sea of Religious affections, which, pervading 
the whole heart and absorbing all, divides itself into classes correspond- 
ing to each of the elemental affections, and, of course, to each of the 
orders of the determinate affections. These six classes have each their 
peculiar manifestations. 



232 AUTOLOGY. 

y. And here these waters, as of old, are by the divine commandment 
stayed. "Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther," was the Creator's 
command. Here the stream of human affection exhausts itself, because 
its fountains send out no more waters ; here they pause and round them- 
selves into completeness, as one finished and ensphered sea of the human 
heart, each part distinguishable, yet all combined and forming one com- 
plete and undivided whole. 

z. And now, having seen whence the religious affections arise, and 
having traced them through all the course of their formation and prog- 
ress, until they are a complete and determinate body by themselves, 
the last and the highest of the human heart, we shall take them up 
specifically, and examine their various classes, and subordinate manifes- 
tations, as we have done with the preceding orders in their respective 
turns. These religious affections are simply selfial, a part of the self, 
and neither right nor wrong, they are formed just as the other affections 
are formed. We have seen how reverential ness, as an elemental affection, 
became religiousness, as a determinate affection, and by what process ; 
and that in all respects its formation is the same as that of the other 
orders, only that it partakes of them all, while the other orders have all 
the elemental affections in their composition, but necessarily only those 
orders of determinate affections which precede them. Taking up, then, 
the order of religious affections, we find that it has six classes, with 
their manifestations, as follows : — 

ORDER VI. RELIGIOUS AFFECTIONS. 

Class First. Spiritual Wants. 

Manifestations. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Spiritual Wants. Anxiousness. 

1. longingness. solicttousness, indifference. 

2. Dependentness. Dejectedness, Recklessness. 

3. Prayerfulness. Abjectness, Presumption. 

Class Second. Faith in God. 
Manifestations 

Faith in God and the Supernatural. Polytheism, Sadduceeism. 

1. Believingness. Credulousness, Scepticism. 

2. Obedientness. Obsequiousness, Disobedientness. 

3. Venerativeness. Adulation, Impiousness. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 



233 



Class Third. Hope of Immortality. 
Manifestations. 



Selfial State. 
Hope of Immortality. 

1. FoRECASTINGNESS. 

2. ExPANSIVENESS. 

3. FORESTALLINGNESS. 



Selfish State. 

FoREBODINGNESS. 

Presentiment. 

Self-contractedness. 

Nihilism. 



Class Fourth. Anticipation of Heaven. 



Manifestations. 



Anticipation of Heaven. 

1. Gladsomeness. 

2. Benevolentness. 

3. Gratefulness. 



Self-gratification in 

this Life. 
Self-indulgence. 
Self-seeking. 
Self-adulation. 



Class Fifth. Divine Assimilation. 

Manifestations. . . 



Divine Assimilation. 

1. Introspectiveness. 

2. Self-renunciativeness. 

3. Transformativeness. 



Deformation. 
Self-vexing. 
Doing Penance. 
Imbrutement. 



Class Sixth. Devotion to the Divine. 

Manifestations, 
Devotion to the Divine. Self-immolation. 

1. Subordinativeness. Servileness. 

2. conformingness. blgotedness. 

3. CONSECRATIVENESS. DeVOTEDNESS. 



This is Religion. 



This is Superstition. 



a. This order of affections is nature's provision in the heart for re- 
ligious emotions and states, and is the summing up' of all that precedes 
it. They are not in themselves any better or more divine than any 
other affections, or any other faculty of the mind, but are simply the 
capability of being affected with religious facts and interests. 

b. It will readily appear that these six classes stand each over against, 
and are correlative to, each of the orders of determinate affections respec- 

30 



234 AUTOLOGY. 

tively, as they each in turn correspond to the six elementary affections. 
Thus these classes cover the whole complex field of the affections, and 
are the religiousness of the whole heart. 

c. Moreover, each class of these religious affections has also a natural 
affinity and identity of nature with each corresponding elemental affec- 
tion ; and thus they are the blossoming out of the whole tree, with all 
its branches of man's affectional life. Religiousness is thus the natural 
fruit of all the affections of the human heart, combined into one tree 
of life. 

d. The first class of religious affections manifest themselves sub- 
jectively in the three modes following, while objectively they appear in 
forms analogous to the several classes of the first order of determinate 
affections. 

e. This class corresponds to the first elemental affections, and to 
the first order of determinate affections, and takes its characteristics 
from them. That which was desirefnlness in the elemental affections, 
and which became the individual order in the determinate affections, 
here appears as spiritual wants, and constitutes the first class of the 
religious affections, as follows : — 

Class First. Spiritual Wants. 

Manifestations. 
Selfial Stale. Selfish State. 

Spiritual Wants. Anxiousness. 

1. longingness. solicitousness or indifference. 

2. Dependentness. Dejectedness or Recklessness. 

3. Prayerfulness. Abjectness or Presumptuousness. 

f. The first class of the religious affections we call spiritual wants. 
It is essentially the same as desirefulness in the original elemental 
affections. 

g. There it is the very fountain of the heart. It has now passed 
through all the developments and determinations of human affections, 
and sought satisfaction and rest in all forms of human things in the 
world, and has come out again, rising over them all, dissatisfied and 
restless, and more desireful than ever. 

h. It has grown intense instead of quiet, hungry instead of satisfied, 
by attempting to feed on worldly and passing objects. It is now no 
more' mere desire, but want, absolute spiritual want, longing after some- 
thing which this world cannot give, and yearning after immortality. 
The starving and famished soul now cries out for that which will satisfy 



THE AFFECTIONS. 235 

its spiritual nature. The soul manifests itself as above the body, and 
above the pursuits of the mind also, in relation to this world, and aspires, 
and yearns, and hungers, and longs for immortality and immortal 
interests to animate, employ, and satisfy it. 

i. This is here the religious affection. It manifests itself first in 
longingness, and second in a consciousness of dependence upon an all- 
mastering power. It finds itself unable to supply its own wants here, 
and insuperable barriers rise on every hand, preventing it from going 
elsewhere for help. This gives the consciousness of weakness, of de- 
pendence, and of helplessness ; and thus is the soul disposed to prayer- 
fulness, which is the third manifestation of spiritual wants. . 

j. All men are disposed to pray ; all men do at some times pray. 
The natural outcry of the heart for help, the call of need for relief, of 
weakness for strength, of clanger for rescue, — all these are pi^er in its 
simple and normal state. Now, in this first religious affection, in which 
man's heart longs for the infinite, and man's soul pines for immortality, 
and in which all his weaknesses, disabilities, and destitutions come upon 
him, — in this first dawns his belief in immortality, his faith in the un- 
seen ; and here rises his first prayer to God for deliverance. 

k. Here begins his religious life. This affection is the fountain of all 
religion. This will appear yet more clearly when we recur to the 
affection of spiritual want, in its first and normal state as an elemental 
affection. 

I. As such it was mere desirefulness going out after gratification, not 
knowing fully what it wanted, or whither it was going. Flowing out, 
and developing from itself all the other elementary affections, and 
again determining them all through itself, it sought relief in the forma- 
tion of the order of Individual affections, with all its classes and manifes- 
tations. Into these it entered as its legitimate field of action and 
enjoyment, and with the hope that it had found the true and complete 
end of its. being. 

m. Accordingly it expanded and diversified itself into the class of 
self-sustentative affections, with all its various -manifestations, and then 
into the class of self-defensive affections, with all its manifestations ; and 
in like manner it entered into the class of self-acquisitive affections, and 
its manifold forms of manifestations ; and lastly into the class of self- 
annunciative affections, and asserted itself through all its modes of 
avowal and manifestation, until it had exhausted them all, and still found 
itself dissatisfied and unsupplied. 

n. In like manner it entered and passed through all the other 
affections, both elemental and determinate. But though it joined with the 
other elemental affections, forming order after order of determinate affec- 
tions, and passed through them all, yet it did not find sufficient expansion, 



236 AUTOLOGY. 

satisfaction, or relief, until this last order of religious affections was 
formed. 

o. It now appears, rising above them all, as the desire for that which 
is higher than all earthly gratifications or pursuits — even the spiritual 
and the divine. It now reveals itself as spiritual want. It is here 
manifest that in the original element of desirefulness there was that 
which was spiritual, and which sought in vain for relief and satisfaction 
in any of the forms and manifestations of earthly affections. Not in- 
dividual, or social, or patriotic, or philanthropic, or eesthetiq affections, 
with all their grand universe of love, expansion, elevation and work, 
could satisfy it ; but rising over them all, it comes out as a want of the 
soul, which the whole world has failed to supply. 

p\ It is an historic proof, an experimental test, that the soul has im- 
mortal and spiritual longings, for the relief of which, it feels dependence, 
and offers prayer to God. Here is immortality stirring within us, and 
speaking out from the summit of the whole heart's developments, re- 
sources, and pursuits, and calling on the supernatural, the infinite, 
and the divine. 

q. Is it asked, What are these spiritual wants which will not be satis- 
fied with earthly things, and which rise up and cry out over all for some- 
thing higher and better ? Is it asked, What would the spirit have ? The 
reply is, It would have, and it calls after, the same things which the ele- 
ment of desirefulness called for at the first. 

r. Desirefulness called for self-sustentation : so now the soul is 
famishing. It called for self-defence : so now the soul feels its danger, 
and seeks self-defence. It called for self-acquisition : so now would the 
soul acquire immortal possessions for its many faculties and wants. It 
demanded a field for self-assertion, action, and empire : so now does it 
demand " scope and verge " for its immortal activities. 

s. These are no more mere worldly desires, but deep, yearning, spiritual 
wants, which the soul feels. It has found out from its own experi- 
menting, that 

" The world can never give 

The bliss for which we sigh; 
'Tis not the whole of life to live, 
Nor all of death to die ; " 

and it now rises up and looks out* beyond this world for relief. The 
spiritual wants of the soul lift up their imploring hands and look into 
the deep eternity before them, and call for help and deliverance. 

t. This is the first class of the religious affections, viz., spiritual 
wants, that long and yearn, in conscious dependence and prayerfulness, 
for larger enjoyments and a higher life. The excesses and defects, per- 
versions and opposites, of these affections are manifest. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 23? 

u. Anxiousness, which, like "the sorrow of the world, worketh 
death/' stands over against the consciousness of spiritual wants, as an 
excess, perversion, or defect. It has its bad manifestation in a wasting 
solicitude or a paralyzing indifference, in dejectedness of mind or reckless- 
ness of spirit, in abjectness of soul or in a presumptuous pride of 
heart. 

v. These selfish forms of this affection present innumerable cases 
where extremes meet and where contrarieties harmonize in one common 
depravity, each showing the lost, wretched, and forlorn estate of a guilty 
and fallen soul. Yet these phenomena of the depraved heart as much 
foretell and demand another life, as does the same affection when under 
the manifestation of its selfial state. 

Class Second. Faith in God. 

The second class of religious affections is faith. in God and the super- 
natural, and has three prominent manifestations which will sufficiently 
show its nature. 

Manifestations. 
Selfial Slate. Selfish State. 

Faith in God. Polytheism. 

Believingness. • • Sadduceeism. 

Obedientness. Credulousness, Scepticism. 

Venerativeness. Obsequiousness, Disobedientness. 

Adulation, Impiousness. 

a. In this affection, that which was simple trust in the elemental affec- 
tions, and which became the second or social order of determinate affec- 
tions, appears as positive belief in the unseen and the spiritual. Trust- 
fulness has gone through all the combinations, developments, and deter- 
minations of all the elements, orders, classes, and manifestations of the 
affections of the whole heart, as did desirefulness before it, and has 
come out at last as a religious affection through the determination of the 
element of veneration, and now. appears not as simple trust in the 
visible and tangible in this world, but as faith in God and in the unseen 
and spirit world. 

b. It has, as trust, tried all the forms of earthly things, and found 
them wanting ; and it now rises up in the strength of its own spirit, and 
spreads its wings towards the infinite and the eternal. It has found all 
human pursuits too small, and too poor, to satisfy the wants of the soul ; 
and now it rises above them, and struggles away from them, and de- 
mands for itself the supernatural and the divine. 



238 AUTOLOGY,. 

c. Thus that which was simply the confidence and trust of strong 
desire in the elemental affection, becomes faith in God and' the super- 
natural in the determinate order of religious affections. 

d. That same trustfulness which went out from its elementary state 
through the order of the individual affections, and rejoiced to flow over 
and find a field for its own generous confidingness in the new order 
of the social affections, and to expand itself into all its classes and 
manifestations, now finds that there is not room enough for it there. • 

e. It expanded itself into the classes of marital, parental, filial, frater- 
nal, and amical affections, and diversified itself into all their many mani- 
festations, and found genial life and legitimate employment there, but 
not sufficient. 

f. From that point it flowed out with all the succeeding elements in 
forming the orders respectivtly which are based upon them. 

g. Lastly it combined with the original elements determined through 
reverentialness, and partaking with reverentialness of all through which 
they both passed, joined with it in forming the great body and last order 
of the Religious Affections, and there comes out in the second class as 
faith in God and the supernatural. 

h. Here this original trustfulness of the soul appears exhausted, un- 
satisfied, and disheartened, and here, it yearns for all those pure loves 
which characterize the social order of affections in human life. Here, 
rising above flesh and sense, it demands the high joys of holy love, 
and intimacy with pure and loving spirits, analogous to those in which 
it once sought a fitting end of being. Divested of perishing and passing 
peculiarities of the social affections, this faith in God and the super- 
natural demands the high and holy communings of immortal spirits, im- 
mortal relations, kindred, and ties. 

i. That which is real, mental, and spiritual in the marital affection, 
where soul mingles with soul ; that which is pure and unselfish in pa- 
rental affection; that which is holy in filial love, in fraternal sympathy, 
especially in amical attachment, like that of David and Jonathan, — all 
this is yearned for by the hungry heart, which, after trying all other 
things, finds its trustfulness unsatisfied until at last it comes out as faith 
in God, and feels that 

" Love indeed is light from heaven, 
A spark of that immortal fire, 
By angels felt, by Allah given, 
To raise from earth each low desire." 

j. Trustfulness in mere human relations determining all the other ele- 
mental affections through itself, and flowing out through the order of 
the individual affections, forms and claims the whole order of the social 
affections as the field of its generous loves and confiding operations. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 239 

k. But when the whole heart is complete, and when it has expanded 
itself into all the classes and manifestations of its own order, and joined 
in forming all the other orders, then at last it breaks out again with its 
own original characteristics, and in the final and completing order of the 
affections of the whole heart forms a distinct class by itself; and as 
faith in God, it looks out for relations and loves, pure, supersensual, 
immortal and imperishable in the world to co'me, even to God and the 
spirits of the just made perfect in a blessed eternity. 

I. This affection manifests itself first in Believingness, a disposition 
to confide in that which is unseen, 3 r et which gives evidence of its re : 
ality. Man's deep spiritual wants, and this failure of all earthly things 
to supply them, and his own inability by knowledge or power to help 
himself, — all these dispose him to faith in a higher power, and by faith 
in that power to maintain the soul amidst its wants. 

m. This belief in a higher power leads naturally to obedience to the 
will and commands of that power. Obedience is the natural fruit of 
faith, and obedience as naturally produces respectfulness and veneration. 
In these things faith or coufidingness manifests itself as a religious 
affection ; it believes and obeys ; it venerates the invisible and the infi- 
nite. In this religiousness comes out fully and decidedly. 

n. This affection has its excesses and its opposites. Its excess is 
credulousness, with scepticism for its opposite, with which it always has 
a strong affinity. It is not a little curious that the most believing are 
sometimes the most unbelieving ; the sceptical are the most credulous, 
and especially they who are the most sceptical about true religion are 
the most credulous about a false religion. 

o. Scepticism and superstition are as near of kin as are credulity and 
superstition ; and absolute disobedience to God and truth are at the 
bottom of them all, for credulity is never intelligent faith, and when 
such faith becomes intelligent, if the soul has nO conformity to it, it is 
only a negative faith, and may at any time develop itself into open 
hostility. 

p. That men will have a God, and must believe something, is proved 
by the myriad gods and superstitions of every age. Polytheism and 
the mythologies of the world show man's indestructible belief in God 
and in the supernatural. 



240 AUTOLOGY. 

Class Third. Hope of Immortality. 

Manifestations. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Hope of Immortality. Forebodingness. 

forecastingness. presentiment. 

EXPANSIVENESS. SeLF-CONTRACTION. 

FORESTALLINGNESS. SaDDUCEEISM. 

a. That which was simple hopefulness in the elemental state, and 
became the third or patriotic order of determinate affections, here takes 
the definite form of the positive Hope of Immortality ; and as from de- 
sirefulness proceeded trustfulness, and from the combination of the two 
came hopefulness, so here, from the spiritual want, comes faith in God 
and the supernatural ; and from the combination of spiritual want and 
faith in God comes the hope of immortality. 

b. Hopefulness started out, as on a voyage of life, in the elementary 
affections, and combining with it all the other elemental affections, went 
forth through the orders of the individual and the social affections, and 
passing beyond them, expanded into the wide field of the Patriotic 
Affections. 

c. Here it sought " scope and verge " for its inherent impulsiveness 
and expansiveness, but found them net ; and after joining with the suc- 
ceeding elements, as it had with the preceding, as they were deter- 
mined into their different orders respectively, it at last comes out here 
in the determinate order of the religious affections as the Hope of 
Immortality^. 

d. And as the elemental hopefulness sought to satisfy itself in pa- 
triotism, so does the hope of immortality seek to satisfy itself in immor- 
tal things. 

e. In the patriotic affections, hopefulness expanded itself into raceal 
affections, local affections, cultal and national affections, covering all 
human relations, but was not satisfied. It now seeks for kindred ob- 
jects beyond this world, and hopes for a nobler race, a better country, 
a higher cultivation, and a more glorious nationality, in the world to 
come. Such is the natural hope of immortality. 

/. It manifests itself in a disposition to forecast the future, — or in 
forecastingness, — and in a spirit of expansiveness awakened by reason 
of the opening immortality before it, and lastly in a disposition to fore- 
stall the destinies of the world to come by some preparation for it. 

g. These are its subjective states and manifestations here, through 
which it looks out upon immortal interests and attainments. Of nothing 



THE AFFECTIONS. 241 

are men more conscious than of their hopes of immortality, and of their 
forecasting, expanding-, and forestalling tendencies of mind, as they are 
ever looking forward and resting on attainments and possessions in the 
life to come. 

h. There are excesses and deficiencies, perversions and opposites, of 
these affections. By reason of some presentiment of evil or casualty, 
giving forebodings of ruin, and misery, and death, .many through 
fear are " all their lifetime subject to bondage." 

i. And others, who reject the notion of immortality, contract them- 
selves into a vicious Epicureanism, which says, "Let us eat and drink, 
for to-morrow we die," or into a more bitter and malign Sadduceeism 
which believes neither in God, spirit, nor immortality. Thus the per- 
verters of the affections of Hopefulness imbrute and benight themselves 
in the present, while they rob their souls of the cheer and the stimu- 
lants of immortality, and of the excellence and beauty of a completed 
character and a blessed condition in the life to come. 

Class Fourth. Anticipation of Heaven. 

Manifestations. 
Selfial Slate. Selfish State. 

Anticipation of Heaven. Self-geatification in this Life, 

gladsomeness. self-innulgence. , 

Benevoi.entness. Self-seeking. 

Gratefulness. Self-adulation. 

a. That which was cheerfulness as an elemental affection, and which 
became the fourth or philanthropic order of the determinate affections, 
appears here as the fourth class of the religious affections, and in the 
form of anticipation of happiness in a future life, or complacency arising 
out of the desire, belief, and hope of immortality. 

b. For as cheerfulness was formed by combining the three preceding 
elemental affections, and as the fourth, or philanthropic order of the 
determinate affections was developed from the three preceding orders, 
so here the anticipation of heaven, or happiness in a future life, arises 
out of the combination of the three preceding classes, viz., spiritual 
wants, faith in God, and the hope of immortality. • 

c. It corresponds in position, nature, and relations, to cheerfulness in 
the elemental affections ; and as cheerfulness sought its field in the 
order of the philanthropic affections, so this cheerful and confiding desire 
of happiness (which is anticipation) seeks its field of enjoyment in heaven, 
or the life to come. 

d. Cheerfulness sought its first expansion by diffusing itself through 
the other elements, and through the orders of affections into which they 

31 



242 AUTOLOGY. 

were determined, until its own turn came to determine these affections 
through itself, and form, by combination with them, the determinate 
order of the philanthropic affections. 

e. Here it found the largest and broadest field of human action, and it 
diffused its light, and imparted its animation, through all the classes, 
manifestations, and modifications of these affections ; and then was 
mingled with all the succeeding orders, until it finally cropped out in 
the religious affections. 

/. This original element of cheerfulness, having been combined with 
all the orders of the determinate affections, and having itself determined 
the formation of one of these orders, now, at last, appears as the fourth 
class of the religious affections, with the name and nature of the antici- 
pation of heaven, or happiness in the life to come. 

g. It here manifests itself as gladsomeness, benevolentness, "grateful- 
ness, taking thus an interest and finding delight in the same class of things 
in which it found delight as mere cheerfulness. As, then, cheerfulness 
animated and enlightened by its presence, and both impelled and inspired 
humane affections and useful affections, — the one embracing pity for 
the suffering, help for the needy, kindness for the undeserving, forbear- 
ance for the erring, and charity for all ; and the other, home conven- 
iences, social proprieties, and public spirit, with all their various modifi- 
cations — so now does this anticipation of future happiness and heaven 
find its enjoyment and its expectation of good in similar things. 

h. The gladsomeness which trust and hope inspire, the benevolence 
which a cheerful complacency awakens, and the gratefulness which 
assured good stirs up in the .soul, look out beyond this world, and 
expand themselves, and find action and enjoyment in the anticipation of 
happiness in heaven — the happiness of well-doing, enlargement, and 
enterprise, the happiness of exercising humane affections, and all manner 
of benevolent and public-spirited affections in corresponding activities 
in the future world. 

i. This world is all too narrow for the soul, and it looks out beyond 
and above into the future, and longs for the supernatural and the eternal. 

The excesses and perversions, deficiencies and opposites, of this affec- 
tion appear in self-gratification sought in this life, self-indulgence, self- 
seeking, and self-adulation, instead of gladness in that which is good, 
benevolence towards all, and praise and thanksgiving for the universal 
good of the entire universe. 

j. Thus does cheerfulness, after permeating all human relations, and 
giving light to them all, and having pervaded the broadest philan- 
thropy, and flowed into the formation of the religious affections, here 
also rise above all human things, and sjjread its joyous plumes for hap- 
piness in the immortal state. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 243 

Class Fifth. Divine Assimilativeness. 
Manifestations. 

Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Divine Assimilativeness. • Deformation. 

Introspectiveness. Self- vexing. 

Self-renunciativeness. • Doing Penance. 

Transformativeness. Imbrutement. 

a. That which was aspiringness in the elemental affections, and be- 
came the fifth or assthetical order of determinate affections, is here 
a disposition to assimilate to the Divine, and forms the fifth class of the 
religious affections. 

b. No mere affection of the mind points more directly upward, or 
sends its aspirations higher into the skies, than this. Beginning in mere 
aspiringness, as an elemental affection, and diffusing its spirit through 
all the successive orders of the determinate affections, and lifting them 
up by its own impulsations, it extended beyond them into a field of 
its own. 

c. Failing to raise, as it sought, the preceding affections to the skies, 
it went out and formed for itself the order of the sesthetical affections, 
and there sought by the productions of its own genius in all the depart- 
ments of imitative, reproductive, and creative art,' as they appear in 
poetry, the drama, statuary, painting, and music, to bring gods and 
angels, and the heavens themselves, down to the earth. 

d. But having here exhausted itself, and failed to bring down fire 
from heaven to give life, and spirit, and immortality to its works, and 
having been mingled with reverentialness in forming the order of the 
religious affections, it now reappears in its own original form of aspiring- 
ness, as one of the religious affections, of which order it constitutes the 
fifth class. 

e. Here it is Assimilativeness to the divine, and has, at least, these 
three moments : introspectiveness, or a disposition to introspection ; 
self-renunciativeness, or a disposition to self-renunciation; transforma- 
tiveness, or a disposition to a transforming assimilation to the divine. 

f. Now, this affection, as aspiringness, had already sought in vain for 
fit embodiment in all the orders of "earthly affections before it formed its 
own class. It had explored all the classes, manifestations, and modes 
of the order of the individual affections, — as the self-sustentative, the 
self-defensive, the self-acquisitive, and the self-annunciative classes, — 
but it did not find in the physical perfectness, heroism, attainments, or 
personal proprietorship of any of them respectively, or of all of them as 
a whole, an adequate embodiment of its nature. 



244 AUTOLOGY. 

g. It then passed out into the social order of affections, and expanded 
itself through all its classes and manifestations, — as the marital, the 
parental, the filial, the fraternal, and the amical, — but it was unable to 
raise up to its own standard any of their relations or forms of either 
domestic or social life. 

h. It then moved on into the still broader field of the patriotic affec- 
tions, and infused itself into all their classes, — raceal, local, cultal, and 
national, — but it was unable, in any satisfactory degree, to etherealize 
them with its own spirit. 

i. It passed on, in the next place, to the order of the philanthropic 
affections ; and in this largest field and deepest sea of the human heart 
sought earnestly to find room for its activity. In order to this it went 
into all the forms and classes of the humane affections and institutions, 
and strove to make them artistic and beautiful, and to lift them above 
cold charity and laborious love : but in vain. Enlarging 'itself into the 
broader field of the utile affections, it there strove to beautify homes 
with artistic conveniences, and society with elegant proprieties, and the 
community and the state with useful and noble public-spirited works of 
improvement and art ; but it found not satisfaction. 

/. It now set out to form an order for itself, and starting afresh from 
its own fountain, and determining all the elemental affections through 
itself, and leading off in its own spirit, and partaking, so far as it could, 
of all the preceding elements and orders, it went out beyond them all, 
and formed its own world of ^Esthetic Affections. 

k. Here it sought to create all things after its own ideal models, or, 
like another Moses, to "make all things according to the pattern 
showed" by the divine hand on the summit of its own Olympian mount; 
and it obeyed, and did make all things thus beautiful, and filled its own 
world with the works of its own hands. 

I. That world was filled with all ideal imitations, ideal reproduc- 
tions, ideal creations, enhancings, and perfectings ; it was a glorious 
world, a crystal-palatial world, full of all noble structures, beautiful 
forms, graceful figures, skilful inventions, and tasteful arrangements, 
where everything combined to adorn the scene, and elevate and entrance 
the beholder. 

m. And surely it was all wonderful and divine, and ought to be, it 
would seem, as real, and vital, and enduring as it was beautiful and per- 
fect ; but alas ! it was not. In vain did aspiringness strive through the 
whole range of the sesthetical affections to find embodiment, and home, 
and happiness, and contentment for itself. 

n. Rising up behind it came on the elemental wave of reverentialness, 
which, condensing and determining all the other elemental affections into 
itself, swept through all the preceding orders of the determinate affec- 



THE AFFECTIONS. 245 

• 
tions, and coming 1 to the aesthetic order, pervaded it, and bearing it 
along with all its fruits, formed the last great order, of the Religious 
Affections. 

o. And here again aspiringness breaks out in its own character, as 
the fifth class of the religious affections ; and here, reaching upward 
and expanding itself out beyond the world, and all the forms of art, and 
action, and bea'uty in it, it rises ever and ever in aspiring assimilation 
towards the divine. 

p. Such is aspiringness as a religious affection, and such is its his- 
tory and nature as an elementary affection of the human heart. Here 
it appears as an earnest introspectiveness, searching out its own defects, 
and as a rigorous and decided self-renunciativeness, sloughing off" and 
throwing away and ridding itself of its own deformities, and then as an 
assimilative transforniativeness, by which it is ever striving to shape 
itself into the divine. 

q. Thus is it a religious and not simply an artistic affection. Religion 
seeks to perfect some ideal object ; and it looks for realization in another 
world, while art looks for its completeness in this. 

r. This affection' has its opposites, excesses, deficiencies and perver- 
sions. Instead of transforming the soul into the divine, they deform it 
into the brutish and the infernal. That which is rightly self-examination 
becomes in its perverted state self-vexing ; and that which is honest and 
reformatory self-renunciativeness becomes penance-doing ; and assimila- 
tion to the divine becomes only simulation, of the religious, and is an 
actual degradation to brutishness, and to the form and the spirit of 
Satan. 

Class Sixth. Devotedness to the Divine. 

Manifestations. 
Selfial State. Selfish State. 

Devotedness to the Divine. Self-immolation. 

SUBORDINATIVENESS. SeRVILENESS. 

conformingness. blgotedness. 

Consecrat'iveness. Devoteeism. 

a. Here that which was reverentialness, as an elemental affection, 
and which, determining all the other elements through itself, and passing 
through, and pervading, and partaking of all the orders of the deter- 
minate affections, came out and formed this last, great, crowning, and 
completing order of the religious affections, now appears as devotedness 
to the divine, and forms the last class of all the affections, completing 
the whole globe of the human heart. 



246 AUTOLOGY. 

• 

b. In its own and last order, it is its own last class, manifestation, and 
mode ; and appears first as subordinativeness to the Divine, secondly as 
conformingness to the divine, and thirdly as consecrativeness to the 
divine. 

c. And here the whole, last, largest, completest, and highest develop- 
ment of man's heart ceases, being fnll-orbed and perfect. 

d. These affections have their opposites, excesses, deficiencies, and 
perversions, as manifested in that awful form of human degradation and 
devil's mockery — self-immolation. In this immolation man is a victim to 
sin, superstition, and Satan ; and in the forms of base servileness to 
priests, and rites, and sacrifices, and in a contracting, embittering, and 
belittling bigotry, and a more benighting and degrading devotedness, 
the soul falls into the lowest depths of fanaticism, imbecility, and i:n^ 
brutation. 

e. It is not needful here to go at length into the methods in which 
these selfish, and perverted, and defective, and excessive states of this 
affection manifest .themselves. The history of all human religions suffi- 
ciently shows them ; nor is it needful to write out the methods in which 
the soul, in its devotedness to the divine, subordinates itself to rule and 
authority, or in what way it conforms itself to the divine image, or con- 
secrates itself to the divine service. 

f. It is sufficient that here we have completed an inventory of the 
contents of man's affectional nature, an enumeration of the inhabitants 
of the heart, giving at least the chief progenitors and heads of families, 
and the most prominent sons and daughters, with some of the criminals, 
vagabonds, and outlaws, and also a few of the fair- featured sinners. 

g. These affections, thus complete, constitute the empire of the will, 
and the people for whom the will governs, the intellect legislates, and the 
conscience judges. As such they are considered and hold their place in 
this work. This is the only true light in which to view them, and in 
which to treat of the other faculties of the mind in relation to them. 

CONCLUSION. 

1. Man's Nature religious. 

2. Distinction between the Affections, or Heart, and the Conscience. 

3. The Immortality of the Soul. 

Before leaving this for the intellectual or legislative department of the 
mind, it will be pertinent to call attention to three things which this 
view of the nature, genesis, and mutual relations of the affections most 
clearly points out; viz., the proof which it gives, first, of the predomi- 
nance of the religious in man's nature ; second, of the distinction between 
the affections and the conscience ; and third, of the immortality of the soul. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 247 



First. 



a. The fact that man is a religious being here forces itself upon us ; 
and the fact that the heart is the seat of all religious states, impulses, 
and emotions, is here irresistibly manifest. There is not one element of 
the heart that can find fitting embodiment or rest until it arrives at the 
religious, and actually becomes religious ; nor is there one order of the 
determinate affections that can furnish an adequate or fitting field for the 
exercise and development of the essential and elemental , affections of 
the heart. 

b. Desirefulness, as we have seen, concentring and determining ail 
in itself, flows gut. and forms the order of the individual affections, with 
all its classes ; but it cannot find rest and satisfaction here. It is not 
only borne on by the impulse that forms every other order and class of 
affections, but it at last crops out as a religious affection itself, forming 
the first class of religious affections, under the name of Spiritual wants. 

c. Then Trustfulness sought the end of its being by determining the 
other elements into itself, and by flowing out beyond the individual, and 
foimiing the order of the Social affections. But it could not stop there; 
it was 'borne along on the currents that formed each successive order of 
determinate affections, until it reappeared at last as a religious affection, 
under the name and character of Faith in God, and formed the second 
class of religious affections. 

d. Then Hopefulness, in like manner, determined the elements of the 
heart into itself, and went out still farther, and partaking of all, dif- 
fused itself through the larger order of the Patriotic affections. But 
this did not satisfy or exhaust it : swept on by the succeeding currents, 
it at length became a religious affection, under the name and nature of 
the Hope of Immortality, and formed the third class of religious affections. 

e. Then Cheerfulness sought to gratify its sweet complacency by de- 
termining all the elemental affections into itself; and going out through 
and beyond all that had preceded it, partaking of them all, it expanded 
itself into, and diffused itself through, all the vast order of Philanthropic 
affections. But even its mild power could not stop here : it also was 
carried along by the succeeding currents, until it came out at last as a 
religious affection, under the name of the Anticipation of Heaven, and 
formed the fourth class of religious affections. 

/. Then Aspiringness, with the same unconfinable spirit as its prede- 
cessors, determining all into itself, goes like a stream of electricity 
through all the existing orders and classes, and pervading and quicken- 
ing all, enters the higher and more ethereal field of the iEsthetical affec- 
tions ; and there embodies itself with all ideals, models, forms, and 
structures, scenes, figures, movements and music — but all in vain: borne 



248 AUTOLOGY. 

on by the next current from the heart, it flows out, and becomes a reli- 
gious affection, under the name of Assimilation to the divine, and as 
such forms the fifth class of religious affections. 

g. Finally, JReverentialness, itself religious, as an element, the last 
and highest of the elemental affections, set out, and determining all the 
preceding elements into itself, passed through and mingled itself with 
all the existing orders of determinate affections as the last impulse and 
outflow of the fountain of the heart ; and going beyond all the rest, ex* 
panded itself into the order of the Religious affections, a's the last and 
highest of all the orders, completing all the heart and" all the world of 
human affections. 

h. But not content to be the fount and impulse of a distinct order 
of determinate affections, it pressed on through its own order, until it 
comes out as a threefold, intensified, religious affection, Tinder the name 
and nature of Devotedness to the Divine. Here it forms the last class 
of its own order of religious affections, and is the last, highest, and 
intensest of all the affections. 

i. It was reverentialness, to begin with ; it then became the order of 
religious affections, the last and highest order of affections, and then 
condensed and centred itself as the last and highest class in that order, 
with the name and nature of Devotedness to the Divine. 

j. Thus it appears that man is pre-eminently a religious being ; all the 
affections of the heart are completely and inseparably woven together. 
They each enter into the others : they are distinguishable, but not sep- 
arated the one from the other ; no one exists without the help of all the 
rest, and all exist by the combination of each into one whole. Their 
interfacings, and intertwinings, and interbraidings run in every direction, 
through and through each other, yet each and all work themselves 
out in the end as .religious affections, and all thus become religious. 

k. In their original, elemental state, the affections all appear as nat- 
ural ; but passing through one another, and through the several deter- 
minate orders, they all come out spiritual. They began as merely onto- 
logical or constitutive of being ; they end as spiritual not only, but as 
religious, and show that religiousness is wrought into the whole struc- 
ture and being of the heart. So that a right and a healthy heart is re- 
ligious by nature, while a bad and a wrong heart is irreligious. 

Second. 
a. The affectional nature being complete and full-orbed, without any 
conscience, and no trace of an ethical quality being anywhere found in 
it, it turns out from this view that the conscience is a distinct faculty, 
separate from the heart and all its affections, having a nature, position, 
and office of its own. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 249 

b. There is no ethical element in this natural and spontaneous action 
of the affections. This is obvious from the fact that there is no voli- 
tional element in them. They do not choose, but simply crave, and 
therefore they are not free and responsible actions of the will, but only 
appetitive actions of the affections. They do not discern the moral 
quality of states, or acts, or things, but only desire or loathe them ; and 
therefore they are not ethical acts of the conscience, but only coveting 
acts of desire or greed put forth by the affections. Neither the will nor 
the conscience is any part of the affections of the heart ; and conse- 
quently there is n'ot and cannot be any ethical element in the actions of 
the affections in themselves considered. 

c. The guilt and innocence of a person with a bad or a good state of 
heart, i. e., with his affections in a selfial or selfish state, will be dis- 
cussed in the chapter on " Heart Questions," and also when we reach 
the examination of the conscience, in Part IV. Suffice it here, that the 
difference between the affections and the conscience, and between sim- 
ple religiousness and pure conscientiousness is clearly made out. 

Third. 

a. The proof of the immortality of the soul that here comes out of 
itself, anj. by none of our seeking, is most gratifying. Every affection 
of the heart, elemental or determinate, demands immortality. This is a 
separate and independent proof, standing by itself, and all unconnected 
with the conscience, — or that moral law of man's nature which implies 
a lawgiver, and demands a judgment and an immortality. 

b. This proof of immortality is the simple voice of nature uttering 
her own wants in her own language. Every element of the heart 
speaks, and demands immortality ; for every element of the heart has 
not only its own inborn yearning, but, as we have seen over and over 
again, has experimented directly and indirectly in all possible forms of 
worldly affection, and found them wanting, unable to hold or satisfy 
them ; nay, these determinate affections themselves join in the cry of 
the elemental affection, and call out for immortality, and demand it. 

c. As sure as the Mississippi flows, with its many tributary streams, to 
the ocean, so surely does the-great river of the heart flow to immortality ; 
and " this bank and shoal of time " is as incapable of holding back and 
finding room for the heart's affections as is the continent, through which 
the Mississippi rolls, of damming back or holding its many, and mighty, 
and ever-flowing, and ever-augmenting waters. 

d. The river of the soul must flow somewhere ; it cannot stop amidst 
the fountains where it starts, but must flood out, and in sweeping 
onward in its course must be either a' Niger or a Nile ; it must lose 
itself in the sands of the desert of annihilation, or it must move on to the 

32 



250 AUTOLOGY. 

ocean of immortal existence beyond this world. All nature and all souls 
revolt at the former, and all hearts demand the latter. 

e. But if there is any proof of a uniform law of demand and supply 
in the fact that the stomach being 1 formed for food, food is provided for 
it, or in the fact that the lungs being formed for inhaling air, air is pro- 
vided for them ; or if the formation of the eye betokens light, and objects 
to be seen, the ear sound, the taste flavor, the smell odor, and the ear 
something to be heard ; if there is any proof of a uniform law in these 
things, then also in the crying out of the affections of the heart, every 
one of them, of every element and of every order, after* an immortal life, 
there must be proof that there is an immortal life provided for that 
heart. 

/. Desirefulness, as an elemental affection, after running through all 
forms of worldly affection, comes out at last on the utmost verge of 
mortality, and calls, with its many great and famishing spiritual wants, 
for immortality. 

g. Trustfulness in like manner comes forth, after winding through all 
the mazes of human affection, and calls aloud for God, and for the super- 
natural, to fill its wants. 

h. Hopefulness, after shedding divine light through all the labyrinths 
of human feeling and pursuit, rises over all, and calls into the depths of 
the unknown future for immortality to fulfil its ardent expectations. 

i. Cheerfulness, after breathing like a sweet and gentle breeze 
through all the gardens of human affections, and evoking freshness and 
odors from them all, comes to the verge, and looks and yearns with fond 
anticipations for heaven and an immortal happiness. 

j. Aspiringness goes through all the forms of human affection and 
pursuit, elevating, exhorting, and adorning all ; but after passing- 
through all activities, achievements, and attainments in real and in ideal 
life, it also rises unblessed above them all, and struggles and calls for 
an assimilation to the divine, in an immortal state. 

k. And reverentialness in turn finds no object for religiousness in all 
human affections that can satisfy its devotional feelings ; and raising it- 
self at the extremity and summit of its own order of religious affections, 
as upon nature's own last and highest promontory and loftiest altar, 
offers itself in devotedness to the, divine. Here it calls on Him whose 
dwelling is on high, in light, which none can approach, for immortality 
and eternal life. And to all these cries there come back voices, sweet 
voices, with promises of relief and assurances of life. 

I. Now, what are these voices to the soul of man ? Are they shouts 
from the solid shore of reality, or echoes from the empty depths of 
nothingness ? Are they calls from heaven, or are they mockings from 
hell ? Does the heart but torment itself with vain yearnings and impo- 



THE AFFECTIONS. 251 

tent cries for immortality ? Has God made life so malignant, or has 
nature made it so abortive ? Is heaven so cruel, is nature so weak ? Is 
God inviting, or Satan tormenting, by these wants of the universal and 
undivided heart of man ? 

m. Does man sit on the utmost verge of his mortal existence, and 
cry for immortality, with all the affections and wants of his whole heart, 
only to make doleful reverberations in the vacant future and the dark 
annihilation before him? 0, no ; it cannot be ! Nature is not so base, 
God is not so malevolent, nor scarcely Satan himself so infernal ; there 
must, therefore, be an immortal state. 

n. And thus, involuntarily and spontaneously, unsought and unin- 
terested, arises out of this exhibition of the nature, structure, and func- 
tions of the affections, a strong, clear, and independent proof of the 
immortality of the soul, and of its destinies in a future state of existence. 



CHAPTER V. 

HEART QUESTIONS. 
SECT. I. THE HEART. THE SEAT OF MORAL CHARACTER. 

a. What is here meant is, that if the heart is pure, then the man is 
pure, has a right moral character ; and if the heart is impure, then the 
man is impure, and has a wrong moral character. 

b. Moral character does not consist in .having a heart, however full 
of susceptibilities, or in having a great intellect, however broadly it 
may comprehend, and however clearly it may define, moral principles ; 
nor yet in a free will, which has power with absolute autocracy to choose 
the right or the wrong ; nor does it consist in the possession of a con- 
science, however intensely it may feel, or however powerfully it may 
enforce moral distinctions. These faculties give free agency and account- 
ability, but they are only faculties constitutive of man as an account- 
able being. They are not his moral character, but they are his capability 
of having a character, either good or bad. The heart is the seat of 
moral character. The fact of having a heart as simply a constitu- 
tive faculty of the mind does not give character any more than the 



252 AUTOLOGY. 

fact of having a will, an intellect, and a conscience, gives, character. 
They all, as original faculties, constitute the man. 

c. But when they begin to operate, then they form character, and 
the character which they form is moulded oat of and moulded into the 
affections of the heart, and embodied in them. The moral features of the 
man, nay, the whole soul, spirit, and life of the man embody themselves 
in the affections of the heart. Not only moral character, as running 
through all, but all other phases of character, appear moulded in the 
plastic forms of the affections of the heart. 

d. In the individual affections appear all the traits of individual life 
arising from the self-sustentative, the self-defensive, the self-acquisitive, 
and the self-annunciative affections. So also we find the character em- 
bodied in the social affections, viz., in the marital, kindred, and amical 
affections. So in the patriotic affections, we find patriotic character in 
its various developments, as raceal, local, cultal, and national affeqtions. 
In like manner, the philanthropic affections become the embodiment of 
philanthropic character in all the forms of humane, and useful, and benev- 
olent, and public-spirited actions. The assthetical affections also draw to 
themselves all the characteristics of their votaries, and embody the 
artistic character of the poet, the artist, and the philosopher. And 
lastly, the religious affections draw in and embody the religious char- 
acter of all devout and pious people. Thus the affections are the seat, 
the depository of all character — of individual, of social, of patriotic, 
of philanthropic, of assthetic, and of religious character ; and in such 
proportions as they are cultivated and developed, they all combine to 
make, shape, mark, and characterize the man. 

e. But over and above all, the Heart is the seat, the depository, the 
embodiment, the mould, and living expression of the moral character of 
the man, as good or bad. In it the affections are disposed of according 
as the law of the reason, under the moral sanction of the conscience, is 
enforced, or not enforced, by the will. If the rule of the highest truth, as 
discovered by the reason and enjoined as right and obligatory by the 
conscience, be enforced by the will, then will the heart be moulded, as 
clay in the hands of the potter, into a pure and good moral character. 
But if this law of the reason and this injunction of the conscience be 
not enforced by the will, then will the affections of the heart be moulded 
into an impure and a bad moral character. 

f. The man may be true to one part of his affectional nature, 
and false to the rest. He may be true to the patriotic affections, but 
false to the philanthropic affections. He may be a good husband, true 
to kindred and friends, but be a bad citizen, no patriot, and no philan- 
thropist at all. He may be an artist, and most devoted to all the 
sesthetical affections, and yet be false to all social and domestic relations, 



THE AFFECTIONS. 253 

no patriot, no philanthropist, no worshipper of God ; but, on the. con- 
trary, he may be an atheist, and altogether destitute of any moral 
principle whatever. So also may a man be a religionist, a very zealot 
for his worship and his church, and at the same time be false to all 
social, all patriotic, all philanthropic, and all sesthetical affections ; be 
destitute of any rational rule of life, and utterly devoid of all conscience, 
all justice, all mercy, and all faith : such a man may, in the full exercise 
of his religious affections, be a Jesuit, a fanatic, a persecutor, a tyrant, 
and a demon : he has religiosity, but no religion ; he has a murder- 
ous Jesuitism, but no Jesus Christ ; a worshipfulness, but no Chris- 
tianity. 

g. Let it never be forgotten, therefore, that while all moral character, 
, and all character, good or bad, has its seat in the heart, still all right, 
pure, and good moral character is formed in the heart, and of the plastic 
affections of the heart, by the free will. The will, by whatever power, 
person, grace, or spirit it may be influenced from without, forms the 
'character in and by means of enforcing the highest law of the reason, as 
that law is sanctioned and enjoined, by the highest ethical command of 
the conscience, upon and in the whole heart and all its affections, as the 
rule of duty and the standard of right. These are the natural forces of 
the mind, by virtue of which it is a mind, and by which it is respon- 
sible. The seat of all moral character is the heart ; rather, the clay out 
of which all moral character is moulded is the heart with all its affec- 
tions. The artist that moulds it is the Free Will or personality of the 
man himself. The ideal after which he moulds is the law and conception 
of his own reason, and that whether derived from itself or from revelation. 
The sanction as to the perfectness of the model, and the impulse and 
sense of obligation to his moulding it, is given by the conscience. This 
gives right moral character. The material into which the ideal is thus 
wrought is the heart, with all its affections ; and when done it is the 
character of the man. 

h. The heart never acts alone, without the command or permission 
of the will ; consequently the heart is always the seat, the depository, 
or the embodiment of moral character, either good or bad. Could the 
heart act alone, without the will's commanding the law of reason and 
conscience, and without the permission of the will to act on its own 
impulse, it would hove a character, to be sure, but no moral character. 
It would be individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, assthetical, or 
religious, according to the proportions in which these elements were 
mixed, but it would have no ethical qualities, as right or wrong. 

i. However, it is not possible that the heart should be without moral 
character, for all its movements, all its susceptibilities, all its emotions, 
all its desires or aversions, are, and take place, either by the authority 



254 AUTOLOGY. 

of the will commanding obedience to the law of reason and conscience, 
or by the permissions .of the will allowing the various affections of the 
heart to take their own spontaneous course. Thus the heart always, of 
necessity, has a moral character, either good or bad, and man is always, 
of necessity, responsible for the moral character of his heart. All right 
and good moral character is formed by the choice of the will, enforcing 
the law of the reason and conscience in thus governing and moulding 
the affections of the heart. And all wrong moral character is formed by 
the choice of the will, either choosing positively that which is wrong, or 
permitting the heart and all its various affections to run in their own 
wild spontaneity, according to their pleasure. 



SECT. II. WHAT IS DEPRAVITY, INSANITY, DEMENTIA, DEMONIA- 
CAL POSSESSIONS? WHAT ARE THE CAUSES OF THE ABOVE- 
NAMED STATES, AND OF CASTING OUT DEVILS ? 

I. What is Depravity ? 

a. Depravity is that state of the affections which in the foregoing 
pages we have called the selfish state, as opposed to the selfial state. 

b. The heart, with all its manifold classes and manifestations of affec- 
tion, is the seat of all susceptibility, and is consequently the part of 
man's nature liable to temptation, perversion, and depravity. 

c. We have in the preceding chapter shown that the heart is the seat 
of moral character, and that out of its affections all character of which 
man is capable is to be moulded. This proves that the affections are 
susceptible, that they may be affected by influence from without, for 
good or for evil. It is the susceptibility, the impressibility of the affec- 
tions, that renders man liable to temptation, and consequently to perver- 
sion and depravation. Evil thoughts and evil intents, evil pleasures 
and evil pursuits, may be presented to the affections of the heart, or to 
the appetites and passions of the body, which is in a state of identity 
with the mind, and these may be excited to undue activity, and be 
wrought into a state which is called " inordinate." This is temptation, 
and this temptation may be so often repeated and so cunningly and 
persuadingly presented as to pervert the heart, and seduce the will, and 
silence the conscience, and blind the reason, and thus carry the whole 
man captive into sin. 

d. This process of demoralization may be carried on so long as to pro- 
duce a permanent state of the affections, in which the heart is fully set 
to do evil. Now, this state of the heart is called Depravity, and it is 
originally produced in a way analogous to that above given. A paren- 
tage tl^is depraved will of course give an offspring similarly depraved 
at their birth. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 255 

e. What is a pure heart, and what is a depraved heart, are questions 
which have already been discussed and answered in the preceding- chap- 
ters. In them the elemental affections, and all the orders of determinate 
affections, with their various and manifold classes and manifestations, 
have been given and set forth in their selfial and in their selfish states. 
We have seen in the foregoing discussion an exhibition of the heart or 
affections, that they may have two states or conditions ; viz., the selfial, 
normal, or healthy state, and the selfish, abnormal, or depraved state ; 
that the former is good and right, and the latter evil and wrong. The 
former is a state of rectitude, and the latter a state of depravity. The 
former is a state of innocence, the latter is a state of sin. Of the former the 
scriptures say it is " very good ; " of the latter, that it is " an evil heart 
of unbelief, which departs from the living God." We see, therefore, that 
the heart is temptable and plastic, and consequently the seat of moral 
character ; for it is sajd of a wicked man, " Thy heart is not right in the 
sight of God; " and to those called to repentance it is said, " With 
the heart man believeth. unto righteousness;" and the Saviour said, 
" Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." While thus a 
good and pure heart has the state which in the preceding analysis we 
have called selfial, a depraved heart has that which in the same analysis 
is called selfish. Of the last it is said, "thy heart is not right in the 
sight of God. 

f. And this brings us to the question, Is the heart of man, as it now 
is, depraved ? The consciousness and history of every man must estab- 
lish the fact that the heart is depraved. Mixed, and compounded, and 
confused as are all its various states of affections, the selfish state pre- 
dominates, and vitiates the whole ; for any mingling of the selfish with the 
selfial states would corrupt the heart as a whole. This is man's actual 
condition. There are none in whom all the states of the heart are as 
bad as they can be, none in whom they are all good ; yet since it is a 
fact that evil and selfish states of the affections do exist in all, it fol- 
lows that all are depraved ; and while all are not as bad as they can be, 
yet all are depraved, selfish, and fallen, so that there is none good ; no, 
not one. The man is fallen and depraved. The whole heart has suffered 
and is a wreck, which, like a foundered ship, cannot restore itself, and 
is unseaworthy. The ship is a total wreck, not in that there is nothing 
left of it, but in that it is unseaworthy, and may not be trusted to bear 
its freight and passengers. So man is totally depraved in that he also 
is unseaworthy, and may not be trusted with his own life's voyage, his 
own soul's freight, nor relied upon to bring it safe to eternal life, holi- 
ness, and justification before God. 



256 AUTOLOGY 

II. Insanity, Dementia, and Demoniacal Possession, as distinguished 
from Depravity, and from one another. 

a. Insanity, however caused, is purely a physical disease. It is a 
disease of the nerves and brain as physical oi'gans. Insanity is there- 
fore distinguished from depravity in that the latter is a vicious state of 
the mind itself, while the former is wholly a diseased state of the bodily 
organs of the mind. While, however, insanity is a physical disease, 
yet it manifests itself in mental derangement. It consists, as such, in. a 
want of harmony or balance between the governing and the acting 
faculties of the mind. ' To speak in terms, insanity is a disharmony 
between the will, the intellect, and the conscience, as the § knowing and 
governing faculties of the mind on the one hand, and the affections, 
which are the acting faculties of the mind, on the other; or, to recur to 
the classification given in Part I., at the very commencement of this 
book, — the will is the king or the executive of the mind, the intellect 
is the legislature, and the conscience is the judiciary, while the affec- 
tions are the people ; yet all form an indissoluble unity in one personality. 

b. Now, Depravity is a revolt of the affections of the heart against 
the reign of the reason, the conscience, and the will, while the nerves 
and brain, as physical organs of the mind, remain healthy and sound ; 
but Insanity is a revolt of the same affections against the same reason, 
conscience, and will, while the brain and nerves, as physical organs of 
the mind, are unhealthy, unsound, and diseased. 

III. a. Dementia is also a disease of the nerves and brain, as phys- 
ical organs through which the mind manifests itself. It differs in very 
marked particulars from the manifestations of insanity, though both are 
physical diseases of the nerves and brain ; they are therefore kindred, 
if not identical, differing only in degree. It is a fact that dementia 
often exists without insanity, and that insanity often exists for a long 
period without dementia, though it frequently terminates in it. 

b. Insanity differs from dementia in that insanity is a disease of that 
part of the nerves and brain which stands connected with the affections 
of the heart, while dementia is a diseased state of that portion of the 
nerves and brain which stands connected with the intellect. Insanity 
proper implies, for the most part, a sound brain and nerve for the intel- 
lect, but a diseased nerve and brain for the affections, while dementia 
requires a diseased nerve and brain for the intellect, leaving the brain 
and nerve for the affections either diseased or not, as the case may be. 

c. Insanity differs from dementia also in that, while dementia is pas- 
sive, insanity is wholly active. Dementia is privative, insanity is ex- 
aggerative. The former is weakness, the latter is power ; the one is 
infirmity^the other is frenzy. Dementia is imbecility, insanity is mad- 



TIIE AFFECTIONS. 257 

ness ; the former weeps and mourns,. the latter raves and curses. Yet 
they often run together, and manifest themselves in mingled and varying 
phenomena. When insanity has utterly exhausted the mind, then it be- 
comes dementia. 

IV. a. Demoniacal Possession differs from both insanity and de- 
mentia, and also from depravity, in that it is neither a disease of the 
mind nor of the body, but the actual inhabiting of the mind and body 
of a human being by a demoniacal spirit. 

b. It must, however, be observed that it is not possible for demoniacal 
possession to take place, except when the person is either insane or 
demented, or both. When the nerves and brain connected with the 
intellect, or with the affections, or with both, are so diseased as to cause 
in the first case insanity, or in the second and third dementia, then, and 
then only, can a person be possessed with the devil. A sound mind in 
a sound body is never possessed with the devil. 

c. And this brings us to discriminate between depravity and Satanic 
possession. When, as in the case of Judas, " Satan enters into " a man, 
whose nerves and brain are in all respects sound and healthy, the effect 
is simply, temptation and depravity. He does not dwell there and 
take possession of the man, but tempts him and stirs up his evil passions, 
stimulates and depraves • him more and more. Indeed, Satan cannot 
take away from such a person the mastery of himself; but when he 
finds a person whose brain and nerves are diseased and broken down, 
either as they stand connected with his intellect, or his heart, or both, 
then he can boldly enter in without resistance, and reign there, and use 
all the faculties of the man for his own malicious purposes. 

d. Depravity implies a sound state of the brain and nerves, as physi- 
cal organs, while insanity and dementia imply a diseased state of these 
physical organs. Demoniacal possession, on the contrary, while it is 
neither a physical nor a mental disease, yet implies the former, and, as 
human nature is, the latter also, and is an inhabiting of the soul by 
Satan himself, which in its maddened and demented condition he easily 
masters and controls. 

V. Causes of the above States. 

a. Insanity is the same physical disease of the brain and the nerves 
in every case, yet a disease produced by various causes. 

b. First, it may be produced by some physical injury of the brain 
and nerve, by violence from without. Second, it may be produced by 
some strong excitement or anxiety, which damages the nerves and brain. 
Third, it may be produced by wrong, misfortune, insult, sorrow, or 
shame, which are so intense and protracted as to weaken the nerves and 

33 



258 AUTOLOGY. 

brain. Fourth, it may be produced by the indulgence of evil, bitter, 
morbid, malicious, revengeful and vicious feelings, which, by their intense 
and habitual, and long-continued exercise, at length injure the nerves 
and brain, as physical organs, and thus produce insanity. Oft-repeated 
causes like these gradually weaken more and more the intellect, the con- 
science, and the will, — i. e., weaken that part of the brain and nervous 
system through which they act, and thus the man becomes incurably 
and hopelessly insane or demented. 

c. This is Satan's opportunity ; the mind is thoroughly deranged. Its 
faculties are not destroyed, but out of gear, out of joint, out of harmony, 
and the whole machinery of the mind creaks, and grates, and groans, 
and chafes in frenzy and dementitude. The whole mind, both as to its 
physical organs and its spiritual faculties, is in disorder and in ruin. 
Now Satan, enters, having nought to hinder him, and sits and reigns 
amidst the ruins of the mind, as wild beasts, serpents, and satyrs prowl, 
and coil, and hiss, and howl, and revel amidst the beauteous, but broken 
ruins of some ancient temple. It is obvious that while this condition is 
one of calamity, yet the causes of it may have involved more or less of 
personal guilt; for much of insanity is caused by want of self-control and 
evil self-indulgences. 

cl. The object of Satan's possession is to find some kind of embodi- 
ment in which he may do evil, mislead, ■ torment, and show his 
triumph. If a soul, overtaken with that condition of nerves and brain 
which renders satanic possession possible, is yet in sin, then Satan by 
possessing such a soul has dominion over it forever. He can use such 
a soul, and lead it captive at his will. Satan does not care to have a 
thoroughly selfish and depraved man insane, for he can serve himself 
better with him as he is, with his heart fully set in him to do evil. Nor 
does he need to possess him more fully than he does in order to have 
him do his wicked work. Satan will not waste strength or time on those 
who serve him with all their acts and strength freely, but he will enter 
into some hopelessly crazy or demented person, whether that person be 
innocent or guilty in his condition, and use him to do his devilish deeds 
of mischief, and murder, and sin, and death. Sometimes the object of 
Satan in possessing the insane and the demented seems to be only to 
gratify his own malice in torturing and tormenting them. 

e. The most melancholy of all places is amidst the wreck of minds in 
a mad-house. Good men, who become insane, often are profane and 
obscene. This is doubtless the work of the devil, as he delights to in- 
sult and profane God's name and law. Also Satan delights in the ex- 
hibition of impotent profaneness and vulgarity, just as depraved persons 
delight to hear children use profane words and talk of things indelicate. 

/. One of the most painful facts connected with all these states of 



THE AFFECTIONS. 259 

mental disorder is, that the greater part of the persons so affected are 
melancholy, miserable, and wretched in the extreme. Many of them 
suffer unspeakable horrors. This is doubtless the work of the devil. 
There are, no doubt, both physical and mental causes that create the 
liability and enhance the degree of pain ; but that the devil possesses 
many of them, and makes them satanic as himself, and then tortures 
them with their own madness, it is impossible to doubt. 

VI. Casting out Devils. 

a. . It was doubtless such as these that Christ relieved and restored 
when upon the earth. He cast Satan out of their helpless souls, and 
healed their diseases of brain and nerve, and restored them to their 
right mind. So would he do now, if upon the earth, to the same class 
of characters, many of whom are hopelessly crazy and raving in our 
insane asylums. These four classes, viz., the Depraved, the Insane, 
the Demented, and the Possessed with the Devil, will explain all the 
cases mentioned in the New Testament. Out of the merely depraved, 
i. e., those who were wilfully and habitually wicked and vile in the 
state of their hearts and in the intents of their lives, Christ, by his 
grace and spirit, producing regeneration, cast out Satan, and entered 
and possessed their hearts himself, and filled them with love, joy, and 
peace in the Holy Ghost. 

b. But with regard to the insane, the demented, and those possessed 
with devils, Christ first healed their bodily diseases, whatever they 
were, and thus cast out the devils from them. In all cases, these per- 
sons had disease of the nerves and brain, and in many cases they had 
also impotency, epilepsy, palsy, and other disorders, growing out of it; 
and often they were deaf, dumb, blind, or lame, in addition thereto. In 
all these cases Christ healed the physical disease, and thereby cured the 
insanity and the dementia, dethroned Satan, and sometimes, if not always, 
converted their souls also, by renewing their hearts from depravity 
throjugh the Holy Spirit, leading them to repentance, and forgiving their 
sins. Indeed, he declared this healing of the disease and this converting 
of the soul as simultaneous, if not identical, when he said to his accu- 
sers, " Whether it is easier to say, 'Thy sins are forgiven thee/ or to 
say, ' Arise, take up thy bed and walk ? ' " 

c. Satanic possessions were, then, neither the disease nor the cause, 
of the disease which Christ cured ; but he first cured the disease, and 
by that means cast out the devil, for the devil could not possess a sound 
mind in a sound body. Depravity is a spiritual disease of the spirit of 
man which can be cured. only by a divine and spiritual remedy — the grace 
of God. Insanity and dementia are physical diseases of the nerves and 
brain, which make it possible for Satan to possess the soul. These 



260 . AUTOLOGY. 

physical diseases of the nerves and brain Christ healed by miracle, and 
then the demoniacal spirits could no more inhabit them. Thus was the 
Insanity cured, the Dementia cured, and the devil cast out by curing a 
physical disease. 

d. Are the insane and the demented possessed with the devil now ? 
The reply is, that they may be or may not be. We have no reason to 
suppose that all insane and demented persons were possessed with the 
devil in Christ's time; but some were, and so it may be now. . 

e. It may be added that Satan has not always the same reasons for 
possessing" men that he sometimes has. It is exceedingly probable that 
the great multitude of satanic possessions in the time of Christ was 
occasioned by the attempt of Satan to imitate and make a mock of the 
incarnation of God in the person of Christ, and thus to defeat its effect, 
as the magicians in Egypt imitated the miracles of Moses that they 
might destroy their effect. Satan incarnates himself in the souls and 
bodies of men to do any devilish deed thereby ; in Christ's time he did 
it to mock the great incarnation of God in man, and to fight against 
him, Christ cast out Satan to relieve suffering, and prove his own 
divinity. 

SECT. III. IS MAN RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS DEPRAVITY, HIS INSAN- 
ITY, HIS DEMENTIA, AND FOR DEMONIACAL POSSESSION? 

a. The reply to these questions is short. Depravity is a derange- 
ment of the heart, while insanity and dementia are diseases of the body; 
hence for ' the first man is responsible, while for the last he is not. As 
for demoniacal possession, it can never take place except when the body 
is diseased and the mind crazed or disordered, and consequently does 
not involve the man in responsibility. 

b. It must here be particularly observed that there are at least three 
kinds of answerableness or responsibility by which men are held before 
God and their fellow-men. First, we are, held responsible by the law 
of natural liability to suffer evil consequences, as when a child inherits 
a vicious disposition or a diseased body from parents; second,- we 
are held answerable when we sustain representative relations to those 
who have acted for us, and involved us. thereby in responsibility for 
what they have done ; and, third, we are held accountable when we 
have done wrong ourselves, by our own free and intelligent act, either 
by directly violating a moral law or by adopting as our own what our 
representatives have done for us, or by choosing, indulging, sanctioning, 
and making our own the vicious disposition of the mind or passions of 
the body which we have inherited from our ancestors. Now, in each of 
these respects man is responsible for his depravity of heart, though he 



THE AFFECTIONS. 261 

is personally guilty of actual transgression and sin only in the cases 
named under the third head above mentioned. In the first two he is 
answerable and punishable by the law of nature and of representative 
liability, yet not guilty for a personal act. In the third class of acts 
above given he is personally guilty, and punishable for personal guilt. 

c. Taking up these questions in tfieir order, we reply in brief, first, 
Man is responsible for his depraved and evil heart. But was not his 
depraved and evil heart born with him ? Yes, and therefore it is he, and 
he is it. Man is identical with his depravity ; the whole human race 
were a unity and an identity in their original parents, and what they 
were they necessarily communicated ; their posterity were of necessity 
like themselves. When the original parents became depraved, they 
inevitably transmitted their depravity to their descendants. Thus all 
men; being identified with their depraved parents, are themselves de- 
praved, and have upon them the consequences of their parents' sin as a 
natural inheritance. Thus are they actually, by a law of nature, held 
responsible for the depravity which they derived from their original 
parents, and thus have they received the. consequences of that answera- 
bleness in the fact of their own inherited and present existing depravity. 
But are they held responsible at the bar of God for being thus depraved ? 
Yes ; for unless renewed by divine grace, as all who die in infancy un- 
doubtedly are, they are, by reason of their depravity, destitute of that 
holiness without which no man can see the Lord. 

d. But is not the depravity born with me rather my calamity than 
my fault ? It is undoubtedly the calamity, and not the fault, of any 
human being that he is born depraved ; yet that calamity induces the 
soul thus born to become a transgressor, and as certainly makes him 
one as the envenomed sack and tooth of a serpent make him harmful 
and dangerous; and as the venomous nature of the serpent justifies his 
destruction, precisely so will the depravity which is born with any soul 
make it necessary and right* in behalf of God's creatures^ that that soul 
be confined where it can do no harm. Thus is every soul liable to 
suffer, and is so far forth answerable for its depravity. Serpents are 
destro} 7 ed because they are serpents, and are dangerous, and that 
whether they have done any act of harm or not. So depraved souls are 
held answerable and confined because they are depraved, and not be- 
cause they have as yet done any act of wrong ; public safety demands 
it. In this way also, and to this extent, the Insane, the Demented, and 
those having Demoniacal Possession, are held responsible ; i. e. they are 
confined both for the defence and safety of others and for their own 
good. 

e. But can that be my personal act and guilt which I have not first 
chosen ? The reply is, that I am answerable as much for my state of 



262 AUTOLOGY. 

soul as for my acts of choice, and as much for what I am as for what I 
do ; for even though I did not choose or originate it in the first place, nor 
bring it upon myself, yet my state, or what I am, becomes my personal 
act and guilt if I choose and adopt it afterwards. The free will must 
inevitably take free and responsible action in reference to every state or 
emotion of the heart. Every sou? which has arrived at sufficient matu- 
rity is bound to choose or refuse, accept or renounce, every involuntary 
affection or state of the heart which it has or finds in itself ; and as a 
matter of fact, it does take responsible action in reference to them by 
choosing or refusing every one of these affections, or states of heart, 
and is therefore responsible for them, and guilty or innocent, as the case 
may be. By its own nature the free will chooses ; and if it does not 
choose'to surrender the evil heart to Christ in the first instance, then it 
chooses to adopt and sanction it as its own. And this all persons have 
done, and thus all souls- arc a thousand times guilty for the depravity of 
their hearts. 

f. But is man accountable for his insanity and dementia, and for being 
possessed with the devil ? The reply is, that no man can be held re- 
sponsible for these things, except for causing them ; they may be pro- 
duced, as physical diseases, by causes over which, in their incipiency, 
the man had control, and which he might have restrained. Thus insanity 
and dementia are often nothing but indulged and developed depravity, ' 
for such depravity may well produce physical disease ; and satanic pos- 
session is only the completeness of this process, the giving over of the 
soul unto Satan, to work all uncleanness with greediness. Depravity, in- 
dulged, vitiates and debauches the whole mind ; it not only corrupts 
the whole heart, blinds the reason, blunts the conscience, and effeminates 
the will, but often reduces the brain and nervous system of the man to 
a wreck, in which he is given over to Satan, and to "a reprobate mind, to 
believe a lie, that he might be damned." Tn such a state he is fully pos- 
sessed of the devil. Depravity, insanity, ,and demoniacal -possession 
seem here to run together into one moral ruin. 

g. That an indulged and adopted depravity is a condition of soul for 
which men are not only answerable, but guilty, has been shown ; but how 
far depravity thus indulged and chosen may be the cause of insanitj', it 
is, in some cases, not easy to tell. Undoubtedly insanit} r , in most cases, 
is brought on by some physical, social, or moral cause 3ying back of acts 
of indulgence, or by some casualty over which the individual has no 
control. Yet in many cases insanity has been brought on by direct in- 
dulgence of evil tempers and passions, by ambition or perverted religious 
excitement, by the imprudence and self-abandonment of the person him- 
self, and in its incipient stages might, by rigorous self-control, have been 
avoided. Then, in other cases insanity is but long cultivated and in- 



THE AFFECTIONS. 263 

dulged vice and depravity, which carries with it the guilt of the person 
so self-ruined. The devil possesses such souls after they have, under 
his influence, destroyed themselves, and he is only completing their 
choice and carrying out their will by so doing. In an unknown number 
of cases of insanity, of dementia, and of satanic possession, '.' sin lieth 
at the door" of the soul itself, which is in such state. 

SECT. IV. THE HEART THE SEAT OF SALVATION. 

a. While the will, with the conscience, is the responsible and co-opera- 
tive cause of salvation, and the Holy Spirit of God is the gracious and 
efficient cause of salvation, the heart is the susceptible subject upon 
which these causes operate, the receptacle of their products, the em- 
bodiment of their effects, and the seat of salvation. The heart, with its 
affections, is that part of man's nature upon which the Holy Spirit oper- 
ates, by the truth and through the reason and conscience, in the work 
of regeneration. We have seen in what the selfial and selfish state of 
the heart consists. We have seen what is a pure and what is an impure 
heart, what is a virtuous and what a depraved state of the heart. We 
have seen that the heart is susceptible, plastic, and impressible ; that it 
may be tempted to sin and perverted to depravity. 

b. We now say that the same natural properties of the heart render 
it also capable of receiving and being affected by influences adapted to 
purify and renovate it. It is the heart, therefore, which is changed and 
purified by divine grace, and in it all the completed work of grace ulti- 
mately embodies itself. The heart is, as seen in Sect. I., the seat of 
moral character ; hence, when the character of the man is made good, it 
is embodied and shaped into the affections of the heart. 

c. The truth, to be sure, is addressed to the reason, and then the rea- 
son presents it to the conscience, and the conscience, in turn, enjoins the 
obligation to obey it upon the will, and then the will seeks to enforce it 
upon the affections of the heart. The heart revolts and disobeys. The 
conscience gives a deep and intense conviction of the depraved state of 
the heart, and of the guiltiness of the will. At this point the will 
should surrender the heart, with all its rebellious affections, as a prisoner 
of war to Christ ; and here the Holy Spirit strives by the presentation 
of the things of Christ, i. e., his love, his holiness, his sympathy for 
souls, his dying agony, and his ever-living intercessions, and thereby 
softens the heart to repentance, melts it into contrition, and wins it to 
obedience and love. In this state the free soul comes to Jesus, as the 
atonement, for the forgiveness of its sins, repents, prays, renounces sin, 
submits, consecrates itself unto Christ and his cross, and finds forgive- 
ness through his death. Thus is the heart changed through the quick- 



264 AUTOLOGY. 

ening of the Holy Ghost, and thus is the soul forgiven through Christ's 
atonement, and the whole man is reconciled to God ; and all this work 
of regeneration, of conversion, of prayer, faith, consecration, and- practi- 
cal godliness embodies itself ultimately in the plastic forms of the affec j 
tions of the heart, shaping it all into the image, and filling it all with 
the spirit of God. 

d. While, therefore, it is the clear discernment of the truth by the 
reason, and the strong injunction of the conscience, and the free choice 
of the will, which constitute the several steps to life, yet it is God's 
spirit that changes the heart, and it is with the heart that man believeth 
unto righteousness, while with the mouth confession is made unto sal- 
vation ; and it is in the heart that all the state of grace ultimately em- 
bodies itself in the form of renewed and purified moral character. 

SECT. V. HEART-POWER. 

a. Heart-power is the involuntary behest of affection and love, such 
as a mother feels for her child. It rises in brute life above mere 
natural affinity, into animal sensibility and instinctive attachment. But 
in the human heart it rises to the range of personal love and spiritual 
sympathy. It takes the character of good or evil, benevolent or malign, 
genial or ferocious, according as the selfial or selfish state predominates. 
It takes on moral character as right or wrong, and makes the person 
guilty or innocent, as it comes under the allowance or the rejection of 
the will. 

b. To give an account of the elements or the amount of heart-power 
would be to re-enumerate the whole catalogue and contents of the affecr 
tions, both elemental and determinate, with all their orders, classes, 
manifestations and modes. They all combine to give heart-power, and 
usually there are force and strength in the man just in proportion as he 
has heart or affectional power — i. e., in proportion to the amount and 
quality of his affectional nature. 

c. The whole range of the individual affections underlies, as a sub- 
stratum and support, all the other affections, and upon them are built 
the social affections, with all their scope, delicacy, and power. Upon 
these are built the patriotic affections, with their enlarged field and 
various applications. Then over these, and embracing all, are the phil- 
anthropic affections, comprehending all human interests, and carrying 
individual interest and life to each. Rising above these are the aastheti- 
cal affections, with their ethereal glow and lofty range; and still over all 
are the religious affections, springing out of all and combining each 
as an element in the one result of love to God and good will to men. 

d. Now, in each of these there is a peculiar power. In the individual 



THE AFFECTIONS. 265 

affections reigns that "first law of nature, self-preservation," and there 
reigns all the love of gain, of honor, and of power. In the social affec- 
tions all love and all sympathy, all tender and all passionate attachments, 
love and hate, joy and tears, ecstasy and desperation^ are found, and 
their power is almost without limit. In the patriotic affections there is 
power to command to battle and to death ; it overmasters all love of 
home, of kindred, and of wealth, and lays them all on the altar, a sacri- 
fice and an offering to the country. 

e. The philanthropic affections comprehend and engross all in one 
brotherhood, and sacrifice country and nationality whenever they con- 
flict with humanity. The sesthetical affections rise over all like a beauti- 
ful and heaven-ascending exhalation, and feed on. all that is highest, and 
noblest, and most beautiful in the whole universe. Their power reaches 
every human being ; all souls bow before the spell of beauty. The 
religious affections sum up all, and are most controlling of all, and are 
capable of both good and evil. 

/. A selfial and a selfish state are possible to all the affections. The 
religious affections in their right state have a divine power to control, 
command, lift up, and purify and bless. In their selfish state they are 
bigotry, persecution, murder, and death. So the eesthetical affections 
may be a lifting power, ethereal and divine, or they may be of the earth, 
and not only earthy, but iniquitous. And each and every class sways a 
sceptre for good or for evil, and may reign for life or for death. 

g. The hearts of men are the great seething and boiling sea of human 
life, interest, and action. Whoever can master it has subtlety and 
might, and may make it bear his bark to wealth, and honor, and glory. 
But whosoever is mastered by it is driven by its storms and tempests to 
shipwreck, disaster, and death. 

h. Heart-power is both individual and universal ; in the first case it 
makes a strong, forceful man effective for good or evil ; in the second it 
is the vast ocean of human loves, hates, prejudices, passions, fears, 
hopes, sympathies and antagonisms, \joys and sorrows, that beat, and 
dash, and boil, and hiss, forever and ever. 
34 



PART III. 
THE INTELLECT 



DIVISI ONI. 

HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO KNOW? 

CHAPTER I. 

WHAT ARE THE FACULTIES OF KNOWING ? 

a. Hitherto we have used the whole Intellect, with all its faculties, in 
investigating the Will and the Affections, as now, we are using it in dis- 
cussing the Intellect itself. 

b. It is manifest, therefore, that to doubt the trustworthiness of the 
faculties of the Intellect acting in their appropriate spheres, is to doubt 
their trustworthiness to examine their own trustworthiness. 

c. Hence any attempt to prove the validity of the faculties of the 
mind implies the absurdity of attempting to prove our own testimony 

. by our own testimony. 

d. As no man can establish his own honesty by his own assertion, so 
no intellect can prove its own trustworthiness by its own investigation 
of the trustworthiness of its own investigations. 

e. For the intellect that tries is the same that is tried ; the doub't 
that doubts is the same that may also doubt the doubting. 

/. The same mind is, at the same time, accused, accuser, witness, 
judge, jury, and executioner. 

g. Therefore the validity of our faculties is as surely above suspicion 
as it is above proof. We are not now discussing the validity, but the 
nature and office, of the faculties of the mind.- 

26T 



268 AUTOLOGY. 

h. The genesis and structure of the mind are, a§ a whole, as fol- 
lows : — 

First. These two Primordial Elements are found to exist, viz., — 

1. Essential Activity, or Life. 

2, Essential Intelligence, or Consciousness. 

Secondly. From these two Primordial Elements are formed, by com- 
bination and development, the whole mind, viz., — 

1. The Will. 3. The Intellect. 

2. The Affections. 4. The Conscience. 

All these combined . and embodied as one living unity in a human 
form constitute the personality of man. 

The discussion of the Intellect will arrange itself in the following 
manner : — 

A. What is the Consciousness? 

B. What is the Reason? 

C. What is the Sense? 

D. What is the Conscience? 

a. While the mind, as a whole, is made up of the Will, the Affec- 
tions, the Intellect, and the Conscience, — all constituting one living 
Personality, the Intellect proper consists of only the Consciousness and 
the Reason, with the Sense. 

b. The Conscience is also a knowing as well as a moralizing faculty ; 
for it discerns moral differences as well as enjoins moral obligations. 
We shall therefore give a brief outline of the conscience in this place, 
with the Intellect proper, reserving its full discussion for its own place, 
after the Reason is complete. 

c. The Consciousness has already been given, yet it will here be 
re-stated for greater clearness, and in order to give the Intellect as an 
entirety ; while the Intellect proper consists, of course, of only the 
Consciousness and the Reason, with the Sense. 

d. Yet consciousness enters into every faculty, as does the essential 
activity, and all the faculties are, in some respects, the inlets of knowl- 
edge to the mind. The Affections and the Will, as well as the Con- 
science, are also sources of knowledge, and are, so far forth, intellectual. 

e. But the Intellect, properly speaking, is confined to those faculties 
which grasp and cognize subjective and objective facts, and the prin- 
ciples and the ideas thence arising ; hence the Consciousness and the 
Reason, with the Sense, are the Intellect. 

f. The whole mind, with all its faculties, is more or less engaged in 
knowing ; hence the whole mind, with all its faculties, must be within 



THE INTELLECT. 269 

the grasp of the Consciousness and the Reason, in order to self-knowl- 
edge, and a knowledge of the science of knowing. 

g. Therefore we here, at the beginning of the discussion of the Intel- 
lect, bring together the whole family of the faculties as. one unity. 

h. The Consciousness has already been given as a primordial element 
of the mind ; the Will has been given ; the Affections have been given : 
we now give the Consciousness anew, as a faculty of the Intellect, with 
the Reason, and the Sense, and the Conscience, that thus the whole 
mind, with all its faculties, may be seen to be at once in the embrace of 
the Consciousness, and within the comprehendings of the Reason. 

i. In order to arrive at the true nature and genesis of the Intellect 
proper, it must here be observed that we have already seen, Part I., 
Chapter I., that the two Primordial Elements of the mind are Essential 
Activity and Essential Intelligence, and that the former is the true 
source of the mind's beginning to act, and the latter of the mind's be- 
ginning to know. 

j. We have also found that the first faculty of the mind, the Will, is 
composed of these two Primordial Elements combined, and so combined 
as to produce other successive elements, which, by recombination with 
the preceding elements, complete the Will. 

k. We have seen that this Will, so completed, becomes the Sub- 
stance of the mind, in which other faculties, viz., the Affections, the 
Intellect, and the Conscience, inhere. 

I. We have also found that the second faculty of the mind, viz., <the 
Affections, together with all its outgrowths into subordinate orders and 
classes, is a development of the Essential Activity, rather than of the 
Essential Intelligence, though both these elements are, of necessity, 
more or less mingled in the formation of all the faculties. 

m. In taking up the third faculty of the mind, the Intellect, we find 
that it is a development of the Primordial Element by which alone the 
mkid can begin to know, viz., Essential Intelligence, or Consciousness, 
already discussed in the beginning of this work. 

n. The Intellect, as a whole, consists of the Consciousness and the 
Reason, with the Sense. In the strictest significance, the Reason alone 
might be regarded as the Intellect, as it uses the Consciousness on the 
one hand and the Sense on the other, and they both serve it as instru- 
ments. However, we include all three under the term Intellect, and 
present them in order. 

A. What is the Consciousness ? 

a. The Consciousness connects the Reason with the internal self, as 
the Sense, by Physical Resistance and the Five Senses, brings it into 
contact with the outer world. The Consciousness, in its various aspects, 



270 AUTOLOGY. 

— as a Primordial Element of the mind, as 'entering into the Substance 
of the mind, as a constituent of the Self and Will, as the one Essen- 
tial Intelligence by which alone the mind can begin to know, — has 
been already fully developed and set forth in Part I. ; yet, in order to 
understand the relations of the Reason to the other faculties of the 
mind, it will be necessary to recall what we have already ascer- 
tained, as facts of consciousness, in finding the elements of the Self and 
Will, and in discovering how the mind can begin to act and to know. 

b. We found that, in order that there might be a Mind at all, and 
that that mind might begin to act and begin to know, there must 
be the two primordial elements of acting and of knowing, viz., Essential 
Activity and Essential Intelligence, or Consciousness, coeval in date, 
coequal in extent, and mutually interpenetrant, inherent, and inclusive, 
as to the whole of their being ; that this Essential Consciousness, like the 
Essential Activity, pervades the whole Self, being at once active and 
conscious — the activity being essentially active, that is, self-active, and 
the originator of its own action ; and the consciousness being essentially 
conscious, that is, self-seeing, and a seer of its own seeing, and also 
conscious that it is conscious, and the originator of its own knowing ; 
so that there is no depth, nor height, nor extent, in the self, that is not 
penetrated, filled, illuminated, and comprehended by the Activity and 
the Consciousness. 

c. This Consciousness is essentially self-seeing and self-originating; 
an<$ this Activity is essentially self-active and self-originating ; so that 
they are both absolute, and the whole Self is at the same time kuower, 
knowing, and known, and alive and active. And, furthermore, we 
have seen that this Consciousness, thus joined with the Essential Activ- 
ity, gives Self-consciousness, or the consciousness of a self, and that 
this self, so known, becomes a law or end of action unto the known 
activity of the self; and, finally, 

d. The Self, having thus Essential Activity, Intelligence, and Law; in 
itself, has, thereby, also Liberty, and becomes a Free Will, the centre 
and essence of the mind, in which all the other faculties inhere as so 
many qualities, properties, or constituents, all forming, when complete, 
the one Personality. 

e. The office of the Consciousness is, therefore, 1. The formation, as 
Essential Intelligence, in connection with the Essential Activity, of the 
Self and Will as Substance of the mind ; 2. The holding in this connec- 
tion, as apart of the Substance of the mind, of all the faculties of the 
mind in the unity of a common centre and inherence ; and, 3. The office 
of the Consciousness is the furnishing to the Reason of all the primary 
facts of its own being, as Consciousness, and also of the Self, and of 
the Will, and the faculties inhering in it ; being conscious that it is 



THE INTELLECT. 211 

conscious both of itself and those subjective facts of being from which 
the reason forms ideas — or obtains a knowledge of the knowable — 
with which it cognizes external facts ; and, 4. The office of the Con- 
sciousness is to - receive and to hold all the knowledge which the other 
faculties, by virtue of their inherence, give, and all which, by their 
action, they acquire and report to it. 

f. It can be here seen how the Consciousness comes to be a member 
of the Knowing Faculty, i. e., of the Intellect proper, as well as being 
an original and formative principle of the mind itself. The principle of 
activity, or life, and the principle of intelligence, are the original ele- 
ments of the Essence of the mind, or soul. That same principle of life 
and action, entering into and forming the Will, comes out in all the 
mind's activities, and especially in the Affections and the Conscience. 
And that principle of intelligence, also, after entering into and forming 
the Will, comes out in all the knowings of the mind, and especially in 
the Consciousness as a faculty of the Intellect, and in the Reason and 
the Sense ; and both blend in each and all the actings and the knowings 
of the mind, and in the formation of all its faculties. Yet, in some of 
the faculties, the, life principle, or the principle of activity, is more 
prominent, and in others the principle of intelligence is more prominent. 

g. But here the Consciousness, as a faculty of the Intellect proper, 
separates itself in some sort, and performs the office of giving, by a 
direct and absolute knowing, the original and subjective facts of being 
— all of which it holds in its own intelligent embrace — and of all of 
which it is itself a constituent and pervading part. The Consciousness 
has here, by its own nature, the one concrete power of both the percep- 
tion and the cognition of the subjective facts of being ; so that it, with- 
out the Sense and without the Reason, knows them by a direct and 
absolute knowing, as facts, and, as such, presents them to the Reason 
for its comprehension, or transformation into ideas. 

h. This power the Consciousness has by virtue of its own nature, 
which is essential self-seeingness, or- essential knowingness, knowing it- 
self. Thus the Consciousness is not only elementary, formative, and of. 
the essence of the mind, but,. it is also cognitive, and cognitive by vir- 
tue of being elementary, formative, and of the essence of the mind. 

i. Its cognitiveness, as such, is of its own subjective facts, and is, 
therefore, self-cognitiveness. 

j. Consciousness is, therefore, not only elementary, formative, and 
of the essence of the mind, and pervasive of all its faculties, and the 
holder of all the faculties of the mind within its own all-embracing intel- 
ligence, — being thus, by original power, at the head of all the mind, — 
but it also enters as an individual into the Cabinet of the Intellect proper, 
and holds there the chief Bureau. 



272 AUTOLOGY. 

1st. As furnisher of its own knowledge, and purveyor of all the sub- 
jective facts of being, and 2d. As recorder of all the doings and know- 
ings of all the other faculties of the mind. It is in the last two 
capacities that it is especially regarded as a member, or faculty of the 
Intellect proper. 

B. What is the Reason ? 

a. Reason is the self-development of the Essential Intelligence, or 
Consciousness, from the first stage of the intellect, viz., self-affirmation, 
to the last and completing stage, viz., self-comprehension. 

b. Reason is the Consciousness ensphering itself: Consciousness is a 
red and burning star, glowing with internal fires ; Reason is a brilliant 
flame, a bright self-ensphering light,blazing from the centre, and enwrap- 
ping the whole orb of being in a pure white, all-comprehending, and all- 
penetrating effulgence, making it all a transparent globe. The full orb 
of the intellect is thus both self-seeing and all-seeing, all-comprehending 
and translucent, surpassing even the sun in the heavens, because full 
of light within as well as without. 

c. The Intellect is thus essentially one, yet diverse in development 
and in functions ; so that whatever is affirmed by the Consciousness is, 
at the same time, comprehended by the Reason ; for Reason is simply 
Consciousness ensphering itself by its own development into a perfected 
Intellect. The Consciousness affirms facts ; the Reason, by compre- 
hending, transforms those facts into ideas. 

d. The Reason is therefore Consciousness so developed as to com- 
prehend itself and all that it contains, in such a way as to transfigure 
them all into ideas. 

e. The Reason thus is the sky-windowed dome which over-cano- 
pies that Pantheon of the soul whose foundations "and encircling walls 
are the Consciousness, and whose portico is the Sense, and within 
which are all the primary facts of being, and all the original ideas and 
ideals which are the demigods of knowledge. 

f. Thus the 'Reason is the essential Comprehender, and is, therefore, 
the faculty for discerning the universal, t^e necessary, and the perfect, 
in all things ; and thus of forming universal and necessary ideas, and all 
ideals of the perfect, from particular facts. (1.) The Consciousness, in 
the first instance, gives subjective facts ; then the Reason, by compre- 
hending them, transmutes them into ideas. (2.) The Reason cognizes 
external facts by means of the universal and necessary ideas which it 
has formed ; — that is, the Reason forms ideas from the facts of Conscious- 
ness; this is its first office — then, with these facts, it cognizes other 
objects and forms conceptions, ideas and ideals from them, and performs 
other functions, as we shall see. 



THE INTELLECT. 273 

g. The Reason is thus, par excellence, the Knowing Faculty ; it is, as 
we have already seen, a development of the Essential Intelligence, 
springing out of it as it is combined with other elements in the consti- 
tution of the Will, which is the centre and substance of the mind. 

h. The Reason springs from, and is developed from, the substance 
of the mind as a quality, and is held in inherence by the Conscious- 
ness. 

i. The Reason differs from the Consciousness in this : the Conscious- 
ness is self-seeing, the Reason is self-comprehending ; the Consciousness 
is conscious of a self, the Reason comprehends that self; the Conscious- 
ness giyes simply the actuality of a fact, the Reason gives the nature 
and rationale of that fact ; the Consciousness enconsciouses, the Reason 
rationalizes ; the Consciousness gives facts, the Reason ideas. 

j. The Reason differs from the Will, in that the Will acts, while the 
Reason knows. The Will is essentially free, while the Reason is essen- 
tially rational. The Will is self-disposing, the Reason is self-compre- 
hending. The Will is absolute in freedom, the Reason is absolute in 
knowing ; while the Affections are essentially susceptible, and the Con- 
science is essentially ethical. 

k. The Reason differs from the Affections, in that, while they essen- 
tially feel, it essentially knows ; and while they are susceptible to im- 
pressions from other objects, it comprehends both objects and impres- 
sions. 

I. The Reason differs from the Sense, in that, while the Sense, as 
Physical Resistance, gives contact and the experience of impenetra- 
bility as an objective fact, the Reason'cognizes that fact by its own ne- 
cessary and universal ideas, formed from the subjective facts of Con- 
sciousness. 

m. The Reason differs also from the Sense, as the Five Senses, in 
that, while they give sensations of external objects, the Reason cog- 
nizes those sensations by the ideas which it has already formed from the 
facts of Consciousness, and translates them into the language of the 
soul, so that they become a part of its knowledge in the soul. 

n. Thus the Sense is an Impinger and a Sensator, and the Reason, 
in relation to it, is a Cognizer and an Interpreter. The Sense collides 
and sensates, the Reason perceives and cognizes. 

o. The Reason is entirely subjective, the Sense is objective. The 
one furnishes ideas, perceptions, and cognitions ; the other furnishes 
collisions, resistances, and sensations. The Reason and the Sense are 
therefore totally unlike in nature and office. 

p. The Reason differs from the Conscience, in that, while the Con- 
science discerns moral differences, and gives the sense of obligation to 
obey them, the Reason furnishes the knowledge by the light of which 
35 



2U AUTOLOGY. 

these differences are seen, arid the rule according 1 to which their obser- 
vance is enjoined. The Reason comprehends the rule of right ; the 
Conscience feels the moral differences thus brought to light, and enforces 
the right, and prohibits the wrong. Thus the Consciousness is the 
essential seer, the Will is the essential disposer, the Affections are the 
essential feelers, the Reason is the essential comprehender, and the. Con- 
science is the essential moralizer. 

q. The Reason comprehends first itself, and has insight into all other 
things. It sees the reason, the cause, the aim, interest, design, and 
tendency of things. It is the power that crystallizes all knowledge, that 
unifies all thought ; it is the mother wit, the common sense ; from it is 
the acute discernment, the forecasting prescience, the prophetic conclu- 
sion ; from it is the inventive genius, the comprehending theory, the 
quick insight, the embodying imagination-; from a part it sees the 
whole, and from the beginning the end. 

r. Furthermore, as the Will is self-disposing in its choices, so t the 
Reason is self comprehending in its reasoning. As the Will chooses 
objects with absolute liberty, so the Reason comprehends ideas with ab- 
solute knowledge. 

s. As the Will rises above appetite and affectional action, so the 
Reason rises above the mere consciousness of facts, or the cognition of 
them by conceptions, and comprehends itself, and comprehends ideas 
and all things. 

t. As the Will is essentially self-sustained and free, so is the Reason 
self-poised and self-comprehended. As the Will chooses, so the Reason 
rationalizes. As freedom is the end of the Will's action, so is ration- 
ality the end of the Reason's action. As the Will wants only freedom, 
so the Reason wants only rationality. As the essence of the Will's 
action is self-disposition, so is the essence of the Reason's action self- 
comprehension. The one is personal freedom, the other is rational lib- 
erty ; the one free acting, the other free knowing ; that is, the one is 
absolute freedom, and the other is absolute knowing ; the one is an 
absolute wilier, and the other is an absolute knower. 

u. The Reason is the chief faculty of knowing in the intellect 
proper, for, though it would be helpless alone, if it could exist alone, 
and is entirely dependent on the other faculties for the material upon 
which to act, yet it uses all the other faculties as instruments of know- 
ing, and as inlets to knowledge. 

v. It stands at a sort of midway point between the Consciousness, 
which gives it its first facts out of which to form ideas, and the Sense, 
which introduces it to the external world, whose objects it cognizes by 
means of the ideas formed from the facts of Consciousness. 

w. As a quality of the mind it inheres in the Will (which is the sub- 



THE INTELLECT. 275 

stance of the mind, a substance which is a self-conscious self and a free 
will), just as the Affections were found to inhere, in like manner, in the 
Will, as qualities of the mind. 

x. And as the Affections are a development of the Essential Activity, 
rather than of the Essential Intelligence, so is the Reason a development 
of the Essential Intelligence, rather than of the Essential Activity, 
although both combine in each. 

y. ■ But we best know what a faculty is by what it does. What, 
then, does the Reason do ? The work of the Reason is, 

I. In Absolute Knowing ; and here its office is to rationalize or com- 
prehend, and to form ideas from the facts of consciousness. 

II. In Relative Knowing ; and here, 

(1.) The first office of the Reason is to believe. 

(2.) The second office of the Reason is to perceive that something 
external is presented, by the instrumentality of the Sense, which is made 
up of Physical Resistance and the Five Senses. . 

(3.) The third office of the Reason is to cognize the external objects 
which the Physical Resistance and the Five Senses bring upon it by 
means of the ideas which it has already formed or rationalized from, the 
facts of consciousness. 

(4.) The fourth office of the Reason is to remember. 

(5.) The fifth office of the Reason is to conceive, i. e., to form concep- 
tions of the objects which it has cognized and classified. 

(6.) The sixth office of the Reason is to abstract, generalize, and 
classify. • 

(7.) The seventh office of the Reason is to ratiocinate. 

(8.) The eighth office of the Reason is to rhetorize. 

(9.) The ninth office of the Reason is to theorize. 

(10.) The tenth office of the Reason is to invent. 

(11.) The eleventh office of the Reason is to imagine, in which(a) it 
embodies; (b.) reproduces ideal forms; (c.) enhances, or. sublimes ; 
(d.) perfects, or beautifies; (e.) depreciates, or fancies, as in sport and 
sarcasm ; and (f.) enters the realm of genius and art. 

(12.) The twelfth office of the Reason is to theologize, in which it 
seeks and finds God, and that by the legitimate exercise of its knowing 
faculty. 

(13.) The thirteenth office of the Reason is to legislate for the 
Conscience. 

All these operations of the Reason will be considered in their proper 
places. 

z. In the last of these operations, i. e., in legislating for the faculty of 
the Conscience, the reason performs the highest function of the mind. 



276 AUTOLOGY. 

aa. Such is some notion of the Reason as a faculty. We give this 
sketch here as a sort of synopsis of this faculty and its operations, 
which will be filled up as each operation comes up in its turn. We 
now subjoin also an outline of the Sense, the Body, and the Conscience. 

C. What is *the Sense ? 

The Sense consists of the Body and those bodily Properties and 
Organs, viz., physical resistance and the five senses, through and by 
means of which the Reason comes into contact with and sensates ex- 
ternal objects. 

I. What is Physical Resistance and the Five Senses ? 

a. By the former, as the embodiment of the essential Impenetrability 
of the mind, the Reason is brought into contact with the substance 
of External Objects. 

b. By the latter, the Five Senses, the Reason discovers and discrim- 
inates the material of the quality of External Objects. 

c. They are the antennae of the Reason, with which it feels, sees, 
tastes, smells, and hears external objects. Physical Resistance is the 
means by which it ascertains their Impenetrability, and shows that they 
are incompressible. 

cl. Physical Resistance is the Self, Will, and Person, with all their 
substance, qualities, and appurtenances, as a whole, as an entirety, 
occupj'ing space which, because. of its own impenetrability," will not 
allow that, two things should occupy the same space at the same 
time. 

e. And thus it demonstrates the Substance and Reality of all objects, 
and lays the foundations of all possible perceptions. 

/. It is thus an instrument for knowing that external things have 
Substance and Reality ; while the Five Senses are the instruments with 
which the Reason is brought into contact with the qualities of external 
things. 

g. The Reason then interprets, or cognizes, the facts thus brought 
before it, and hands them over, as knowledge, to the Consciousness. 

II. What is the Body and Embodiment ? 

a. Since the Sense means the Body and the Organs of Sense, and they 
manifest themselves, first, as Physical Resistance, and, secondly, as the 
Five Senses, and are the means by which the mind is brought into 
contact with the external world, — we are brought directly to the point 
where the mind and the body meet, and to the question of the union of 
the mind and the body. 



TUE INTELLECT. 277 

b. Hence we inqu're, What is the nature of embodiment ? What is 
it to have a body ? and how does the Sense connect and make a communi- 
cation between the mind within and the world without ? 

c. The reply is, that the mind naturally takes on body just as thought 
takes on the sound, or the written form of a word. When uttering the 
word "truth," I embody thought in sound, and when I write the word 
"truth," I embodj- thought in visible characters; and this I do in order- 
to communicate my thought to another mind. Just so the soul seeks 
embodiment in order to express itself to other souls. 

d. The soul occupies space just as does the body ; for if two souls 
were disembodied, they would still be mutually objective, and the self- 
consciousness of each would repel and exclude that of the other, so that 
they would occupy space in relation to each other ; and if 'they would 
communicate with each other, it must be by some word, sign, or con- 
tact of some sort. Hence something analogous to body and to the 
senses must belong to souls, or spirits, as well as to beings in this world. 

e. Physical Resistance depends on the fact that two bodies or spirits 
cannot occupy the same place at the same time ; and the senses depend 
on the same fact, viz., that no two persons or objects can occupy the 
same space at the same time ; hence the necessity for the senses, and 
for perception by them. 

f. The senses are only breathing-holes for the soul — spots covered 
but thinly and tenderty by the most delicate nerves and membranes ; so 
that the soul, in its intelligence, protrudes through them, and takes note 
of objects lying outside of itself. 

g. The necessity of having a way to communicate with objects outside 
of our own personality and consciousness is the thing that makes the 
senses, or something analogous to them, indispensable to both body and 
spirit. 

h. The senses are simple antennae, which have no office but that of 
bringing the mind into contact with external objects. 

i. Physical Resistance is shown in simply bringing one's self, person, 
force, or bulk, as a reality, into contact with another Self or reality ; 
furnishing thus the fact of mutual impenetrability. The Reason 
recognizes and translates this fact by its own idea of essence or sub- 
stance, as we shall hereafter see. There is no sensation of any kind 
connected with this Physical Resistance ; indeed, it may be experienced 
with the senses all muffled, or it may be attended with so much violence 
as to destroy all sensibility, and stun the intelligence itself. Yet it 
assuredly gives the fact of Physical Resistance, the fact of impenetrabil- 
ity, the fact that two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same 
time. This, then, is the whole office of Physical Resistance in the mat- 
ter of giving knowledge. 



218 AUTOLOGY. 

j. The office of the senses is the same as Physical Resistance, and 
something more. The senses give us the form, color, odor, taste, touch, 
sound, of external objects. They do not, of necessity, give us Impene- 
trability (yet through touch they may) ; and this is the whole of their 
office — to bring the mind into contact with the form, color, taste, touch, 
odor, and sound of external things. They have no other part to act 
than this — to bring these things before the Reason, to be cognized 
by it. 

k. They are not at all Intellectual Faculties, but simply Sensuous 
Instruments used by the Reason in bringing objects before it for cogni- 
tion. 

D. What is the Conscience? 

a. The Conscience is the faculty whose office it is to discern, by 
ethical susceptibility, moral differences in the actions of the Will, and to 
give the sense of obligation to do the right and to avoid the wrong, 
enjoining the former and prohibiting the latter by its own moral im- 
peratives. 

b. The Reason employs this faculty as it does the Sense and the 
Affections. The Reason furnishes intellectual truth the fruit of its 
highest intelligence as a rule of action for the Will ; the Conscience 
gives a sense of obligation to obey that rule, and enjoins and enforces 
its observance. 

c. Such is the Conscience, the highest Imperative acting under the 
highest Intelligence of the soul. The Reason gives to the Will a rule 
of duty. The Conscience then, by an ethical susceptibility, discerns its 
application, and, by a moral imperative, enforces its observance with a 
deep sense of obligation. It then rewards that observance with ap- 
proval, and punishes with remorse its neglect or violation. So is the 
Conscience the highest faculty of the soul. So much in passing. These 
faculties, viz., the Consciousness and the Reason, with the Sense and 
also the Conscience, will be taken up. and be put into actual operation, 
each in its own legitimate work and place, after we get through these 
preliminary chapters ; first, Consciousness, as giving primary facts ; 
second, the Reason, as forming universal and necessary ideas from the 
facts of Consciousness, by delimiting and transfiguring them ; third, the 
Sense and the body will be given, showing their relations and functions, 
and how the Reason cognizes through them ; and, fourthly, the Con- 
science will be given, and its discussion will constitute the Fourth Part 
of this work, where it will be examined at length. 



THE INTELLECT. 279 



DIVISION I. 

HOW CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO KNOW? 

CHAPTER II. 

WHAT IS KNOWING? 
SECT. I. WHAT IS KNOWING IN GENERAL? 

I. a. The simplest form of knowing is Consciousness. But Conscious- 
ness in its simplest form is essentially complex. It ever, and necessarily, 
has two movements — a direct and a reflex movement in the one and 
single act of knowing. 

b. Those movements are : first, the Consciousness, as a faculty, is con- 
scious ; and, secondly, it is conscious that it is conscious. This is the 
first and simplest form of knowing. It is not two acts, but one act of 
knowing, having two elements. It may be analyzed, as we have done, 
into two movements ; but those movements are essentially inseparable, 
and constitute the one simple act of knowing. 

c. And as the first object of knowledge is the self, this first act of 
knowing is necessarily self-knowing ; and its two movements are these : 
first, to see ourselves ; and, secondly, to see our seeing. These both 
constitute the one act of knowing ourselves, neither of which can exist 
without the other. 

d. Seeing ourselves, and seeing our seeing, are two movements of 
the one and inseparable act of knowing ourselves. Rather, they are two 
elements of the one act of knowing ourselves. As elements, they 
never can be separated without destroying both, and so destroying the 
possibility of knowing altogether. 

e. The first and simplest form of knowing may, therefore, be thus de- 
fined : To know is to be conscious, and to be conscious that we are con- 
scious ; that is, to know, and to know our knowing. Practically, to 
know is to be conscious of the facts of our own being, nature, and 
actions, and to be conscious that we are conscious of them ; that is, to 
see ourselves, and to see our seeing. 

f. We thus learn that, by the single act" of primary knowing, we 
know, in the first instance, three things — the knower, the known, and 
the knowiDg. 



280 AUTOLOGY. 

g. We see, also, that neither of these can be known without, at the 
same time, knowing the other ; and that the knowledge of all three of 
them is, therefore, not only necessary, in order to know any of them, 
but in order to know anything at all. 

h. We find also, in this kind of knowing, that both the knower and 
the known, and the knowing and the known, are identical, and, con- 
sequently, are absolutely known ; for to. affirm that "I am conscious/' 
is to affirm that I am ; and to affirm that "I am conscious that I am 
conscious' 7 is to affirm that I know my knowing; and to affirm these 
things is to declare that being and knowing are always the first things 
known. 

II. a. To know is to comprehend, and to comprehend our own com- 
prehending. 

b. Practically, to know, in this sense, is, first, to comprehend the facts 
of consciousness by the Reason ; 

c. And secondly, to know, in this sense, is, by comprehending, the 
facts of consciousness, to form necessary and universal ideas out of them; 

d. That is, to know is to comprehend the facts of consciousness, and 
to comprehend our own comprehending of them. 

III. a. To know is to remember. For to remember, in its simplest 
form, is to know our knowing. 

b. But we have already seen that to know is not only to be con- 
scious, but to be conscious that we are conscious ; to see ourselves, and 
to see our seeing ; to know, and to know our knowing. 

c. Now, this second movement of the one act of knowing,- viz., this 
being conscious that we are conscious, and this knowing- our knowing, 
is the elemental form of remembering, and it is identical with the ele- 
mental form of knowing. 

d. The first element, of movement, of knowing, is to be conscious ; 
the second is to be conscious that we are conscious ; and these two 
elements, or movements, as we have seen, constitute the one and insepa- 
rable act of knowing. 

e. But the second element, or movement, of the one and indivisible 
act of knowing, is knowing our knowing ; and knowing our knowing 
is remembering, in its pure, simple, and elemental form. 

f. Remembering is, therefore, of the same essence as knowing. This 
will more fully appear when we consider that, while knowing consists 
in being conscious, and, at the same time, conscious that we are con- 
scious, remembering consists simply in the perpetuity of the same 
exercise. 

g. The only apparent difference between knowing and remembering 



THE INTELLECT. 281 

lies in the fact, that to remember carries with it the notion of time. We 
remember "that we knew ; " i. e., we know "that we knew." 

h. But this difference will vanish when we consider that the Essential 
Activity, or Life, and the Essential Intelligence, or Consciousness, are 
perpetually at work producing the self, and keeping it in being by their 
uniting and coalescing to form it. 

i. But the same act of uniting and coalescing by which the self is 
formed, is that by which it is sustained ; so that time is involved in this 
first making or knowing of the self, as well as in its perpetuation. 

j. So, also, is time involved in the first single and inseparable act of 
knowing, in which, by the first element, or movement, we are conscious, 
and by the second, we are conscious that we are conscious. So that 
the self-same act by which we begin to know, and to know at all, is 
that by which also we continue to know or remember. 

k. The successive consciousnesses of being, in which we arc both con- 
scious, and conscious that we are conscious, are a living chain from the 
beginning to the end of intelligent life. And it is by this living Con- 
sciousness, which is both conscious, and conscious that it is conscious, 
ever burning, glowing, and flaming with the fire of a perpetual life, that 
we can both know and remember continually in one and the same act. 

I. It is knowing that we know that gives us self-consciousness, and 
it is the ceaseless repetition of these consciousnesses that gives us our 
knowledge of our personal identity, as the same individual through all 
the successions of our days and years. 

m. And thus it is manifest that it is the same conscious knowing, 
and the same knowing that we know, that give us alike the present and 
the past ; and therefore, again, it appears that knowing and remember- 
ing depend upon the same living consciousness, and are identical in their 
essence and cause. 

n. The past and the present are thus both present in consciousness 
at one and the same time. We cannot be conscious of our own per- 
petual, and continued, and unbroken identity without having the past and 
the present both now present in one and the same living consciousness ; 
and this is remembering, and this is knowing, in their simple and absolute 
forms ; for they both are an absolute knowing, and are one, identical, 
and inseparable. 

o. So also, in regard to comprehending, it is twofold, and has both a 
direct and a reflex movement. We cannot comprehend a fact by a 
single and direct act of comprehending ; but we must both comprehend 
and also comprehend our comprehending; and by this twofold move- 
ment of the one and inseparable act of comprehending, and by this alone 
shall we be able completely to comprehend a fact. 

p. But what is this reflex movement of comprehending our compri- 
se 



282 AUTOLOGY. 

hending but an act (as in the case of the consciousness) of knowing our 
knowing ? — and this, what is it but an act of remembering in its ele- 
mental form ? . So that here, knowing and remembering are again found 
to be the same identical act. 

q. When fully drawn out it stands thus : We comprehend, and 
comprehend our comprehending. The first involves a knowledge of the 
self which comprehends. The second, as the comprehending of the 
act of comprehending, involves and completes the comprehending of 
the self; and this comprehending of the comprehending is also a 
remembering. 

r. Yet this is all but one act of self-comprehending ; that one act hav- 
ing these elements, viz., the comprehender, the comprehending, and the 
comprehended. The comprehended is both the comprehender and the 
comprehending. 

IV. To know is to perceive, by the Reason, the presence of any 
external object with which Physical Resistance and the Sense may 
bring us into contact. 

V. To know is to cognize, interpret, or translate, by means of the 
ideas of the reason, the impressions of the external object of whose 
presence we have been made aware, as above by Physical Resistance 
and the Five Senses. 

VI. To know is to cognize or translate the impressions of Instinct 
by the ideas of the Reason. 

VII. To know is to interpret the Affections and the Physical and 
Ethical Emotions which occasion dreams, by the ideas of the Reason. 

VIII. To know a thing is to know, first, that it is ; and, second, 
what it is. 

IX. To know that a thing is, is to know its substance, or to know 
it as a substance actually existing. 

X. To know what a thing is, is to know its qualities, or to know it as 
a quality. This knowing is done, in some instances, by one faculty 
alone ; in others, by the joint action of two or more. All the faculties 
of the mind are employed in some way, directly or indirectly, in know- 
ing objects cognized as above, and with them, in turn, in cognizing new 
objects. 

XL After this, knowing consists in all the various operations of the 



THE INTELLECT. 283 

Reason as drawn out in Chapter VI., viz. : (1.) believing, (2.) perceiv- 
ing, (3.) cognizing, (4.) conceiving, (5.) classifying, (6!) remembering, 
.(7.) ratiocinating, (8.) rhetorizing, (9.) theorizing, (10.) inventing, (11.) 
imagining, (12.) theologizing, (13.) legislating, &c. 

SECT. II. ALL KNOWING IS DIVIDED INTO ABSOLUTE KNOWING 
AND RELATIVE KNOWING. 

A. a. We have seen (Section I.) that all knowing is remembering, 
and all remembering is knowing. 

b. We now come to the fact that all knowing is divided into Absolute 
Knowing and Relative Knowing, and that each of the faculties of the 
Intellect proper, i. e., the Consciousness and the Reason, has this two- 
fold method of knowing, viz., Absolute and Relative. 

c. The Consciousness knows a certain class of things by an*absolute 
knowing, and another class of things by a relative knowing. 

d. The Reason knows a certain class of things with Absolute know- 
ing, and another class of things with Relative knowing 

■e. In each of these cases there is a characteristic difference between 
absolute knowing and relative knowing, viz. : — 

1. Absolute knowing is immediate, unconditioned, spontaneous, and 
intuitive ; while relative knowing is mediate, conditioned, interpreta- 
tive, and explanatory. 

2. Absolute knowing is always the single act of a single faculty 
acting by its own original power of knowing, and beginning to know, 
and not using in its act of knowing any previous knowledge, or being 
dependent on any conditions, save that of its own existence. 

3. While relative knowing is a complex act of one or more faculties, 
obtaining new knowledge by the use of a preceding knowledge already 
acquired, and a getting of the new knowledge by interpretation, and not 
by intuition. 

4. In all cases of absolute knowing, the knowing is not only im- 
mediate and unconditioned, but the kpower begins and originates his 
own knowing, and the knower and the known are always identical ; while 
in" relative knowing the knowing is not only mediate and conditioned, but 
the knowing is preceded by another act of knowing, and the knower and 
the known are always diverse 

f\ The Consciousness is self-conscious, and then it is conscious that 
it is conscious, i. e., it is self-seeing, and then sees its own seeing, and, 
in so doing, engrasps itself as both the knower and the thing known ; 
i. e., the knower and the known are identical. 

g. But the Consciousness holds in inherence all the other faculties of 
the mind, and knows also all they do and all they know. 



284 AUTOLOGY. ' 

h. Thus while the Consciousness knows itself and the original facts 
of being, directly and absolutely, it knows that which the other faculties 
do and know only mediately and relatively. 

%. So also the Reason comprehends itself, and in so doing compre- 
hends all the primary facts of the being of the mind, and of the seeing 
and self-seeing of the Consciousness in which it inheres, and of which 
it is the development. 

j. The Reason thus becomes the whole mind; and, in comprehending 
itself as such, and in comprehending its own comprehending, it trans- 
forms the being and facts of the mind into original and necessary ideas. 

k. Thus, as the Consciousness sees itself, which is the self, and is 
self-seeing, so the Reason comprehends itself and the self, which it now 
absorbs and becomes in this act of self-comprehending. 

I. And as in the Consciousness the seer and the seen are identical, 
so in the Reason the comprehender and the comprehended are also 
identical. 

m. For the Reason in comprehending itself comprehends, and en- 
spheres in its comprehension, all the facts of being and of conscious- 
ness, transforming them all into necessary and universal ideas. 

n. In all of which the comprehender and the comprehended, the 
transformer and the transformed, the knower and the known, are iden- 
tical, and the knowing is immediate, intuitive, unconditioned, and 
absolute. 

o. But the Reason also cognizes external facts through the senses ; 
and while it comprehends and knows itself and its own comprehending 
of original facts, directly and absolutely, it knows external facts, through 
the senses, only mediately and relatively. 

p. It knows primary facts given by Consciousness absolutely, and 
forms ideas from them with an absolute knowing ; but it knows exter- 
nal things presented by the senses by means of those ideas, and knows 
them only mediately and relatively. 

q. Moreover, to know a thing absolutely is to know it in itself, and 
as a simple unit, and just as if there were nothing else to know, and 
that, too, of course, without discriminating it from, or contrasting it 
with, any other object.^ 

r. We must, therefore, in order to know an object absolutely, know 
it immediately and directly by a single act, and by a single faculty of 
the mind. This is absolute knowing, and is subject to no test save that 
it must not contradict itself. In this way the Consciousness knows 
primary facts, and the Reason knows universal and necessary ideas. 

s. On the contrary, relative knowing is to know a thing not simply 
as a unit, but to know it by distinguishing it from, or comparing it with, 
some other thing, and, in the act of discerning the difference, cognizing 



THE INTELLECT. 285 

it. Knowing-, according to this method, is distinguishing one thing 
from another. 

t. And precisely here let it be particularly noted that there can be 
no relative knowing, no distinguishing of one thing from another, with- 
out knowing the "one thing" first; i. e., there must be, first, something 
known absolutely before anything can be known relatively. 

u. I must know one thing before I can distinguish another thing from 
it; and, in the very nature of the case, relative knowing cannot exist 
until there is absolute knowing first extant, to which it may relate, anti 
from which it may be distinguished. It is obvious, therefore, that 
there must be absolute knowing first, in order that relative knowing 
may be. 

v. For we' could not distinguish a second relative knowing from a 
first relative knowing, until the first relative knowing had an existence, 
which it could not have until an absolute knowing was first extant. 

w. So also is it obvious in relative knowing that, if there were but 
one thing to know, then nothing could be known. 

x. And this kind of knowing cannot be performed by one faculty, but 
requires two, and the existence of at least two objects, and is called 
knowing by plurality and difference, as the relation of the one and the 
many, the me and the not-me ; i. e., subjectively and objectively, cause 
and effect, substance and quality, time and space. 

y. That is, all that we can know must be in some of these or other 
relations. "Whereas we must know something out of, and independent 
of, all relations before we can know anything in relations (unless it be 
the unmeaning and absurd relations invented under stress of the neces- 
sities of the system that all knowing is relative knowing, viz., self- 
relation, or the relation of identity). It is as indispensable that there 
be first absolute knowing before there can be relative knowing as it is 
that there must be absolute being before there can be relative being. 

B. a. Furthermore, all absolute knowing, as well as relative knowing 
is strictly experimental. 

b. The Consciousness and the Reason, when they know absolutely, 
know their objects experimentally ; i. e., their knowing is an experience, 
and not a mere intellection or reflection. 

c. The Consciousness, seeing itself, and seeing its own seeing, and 
thus self-affirmed, apart from all connection with sense, is an expe- 
rience. It is not a reflection, nor a mere intellection, but an experience ; 
it is not rational, nor sensuous, but both in one most intense experience. 

d. It is an experience because the knower and the known are identical. 
The knower thus comes into direct contact with the known, and is the 
known ; therefore the knowing is an experience. 

e. The same is true of the Reason. It comprehends itself, and in so 



286 AUTOLOGY. 

doing the knower and the known are identical, and the knowing- is thus 
an experience as well as a comprehensidn, a fact as well as an idea, 
and is, consequently, an experimental knowing. 

/. Thus the Consciousness sees itself, and the Reason comprehends 
itself, and the knowing is immediate, unconditioned, absolute, and exper- 
imental. They are absolute because experimental, and experimental 
because absolute ; and each and both because knower and known, expe- 
riencer and experienced, are identical. 

g. On the contrary, in relative knowing, while it is experimental, the 
knower and the known can never be identical, but must always be 
diverse. Relative knowing, in itself, could never exist apart from abso- 
lute knowing, which always makes it possible, and which alone can 
make it possible. 

h. The Reason cognizes external objects by means of the Sense, 
i. e., Physical Resistance and the Five Senses, but knows them only 
relatively. But the ideas with which it translates the objects presented 
by the Sense, when it cognizes them, it knows absolutely. 

i. So the Consciousness receives and knows what the other faculties 
communicate to it relatively ; but it knows the original facts of being 
of which it is conscious, and from which the ideas of the Reason are 
formed, absolutely. And thus it appears that all the knowings of the 
mind are either absolute knowing or relative knowing ; and thus is rela- 
tive knowing built upon absolute' knowing, and derives from it both its 
existence and its reliableness ; and that absolute knowing is more in- 
tensely experimental than relative knowing, for the reason that in the 
former case the knower and the known are identical, and in the latter 
they are diverse. 

C. a. Relative knowing ,has been divided by Kant into Analytical 
knowing and Synthetical knowing. 

b. Analytical knowing takes place when the whole object is present 
to the Sense, or the whole proposition is before the mind ; as, " All the 
angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles." 

c. Synthetical knowing takes place when a part of that which is 
affirmed in a. proposition is absent from our senses ; as, "He that be- 
lieveth shall be saved." The "shall be saved" is a something absent 
from the Sense. 

d. But this distinction is not a true one ; for the matter, or the thing 
affirmed, in Synthetical propositions, is not a subject of knowing of any 
kind, but of believing. 

e. Objects of faith, and not of knowledge, are the subjects of synthetical 
knowing. Kant's own illustration of synthetical knowing was the prop- 
osition, " Every effect must have a cause." 



THE INTELLECT. 287 

/. This be, mistakenly, called a synthetical proposition, whereas it 
is, clearly, an analytical proposition. 

g. But that tins attempted division of relative knowing into analyt- 
ical and synthetical knowing is wholly erroneous, will appear from the 
nature of knowing itself; and that, whether it be absolute knowing or 
relative knowing ; for in all knowing of every kind, alike, the object 
known must be present to the knower. 

h. In absolute knowing this is so ; for knower and. known are iden- 
tical ; and in relative knowing the object is present ; for, according to 
Kant's own definition of it, that which we call knowing is the bringing 
together of a conception or idea of the Reason and an intuition of the 
Sense. 

i. But in all synthetical knowing, according to him, and according to 
truth also, the object that should be given by the intuition of the Sense 
is wanting and absent altogether ; therefore synthetical knowing is, ac- 
cording to Kant's own theory, no knowing at all. 

j. It is by this miserable sophism that he rules God, the soul and 
immortality, and liberty and creation, out of the pale of reason and 
fact, and hands them over to his poor conscience to beg an acknowl- 
edgment on promise of acquittal, or to demand it on pain of damnation. 

D. a. The field of the Consciousness proper is the Consciousness 
itself and what it originally contains; i. e., itself and the faculties of 
the mind which it holds in inherence. So. far it knows and operates in 
its own right and by its own original power of knowing, and, of course, 
knows immediately and absolutely. So far its field is purely subjective. 

b. But the Consciousness knows also the facts and knowings which 
the other faculties bring into it, relatively, and they are objective ; . yet, 
still, its knowing is subjective, although the material of its knowledge 
is introduced from without. 

c. So the field of the Reason, in absolute knowing, is purely subjec- 
tive, in that it forms its ideas by comprehending the subjective facts of 
consciousness, and in so doing comprehends its own comprehending; 
but it also, by means of its ideas, translates the facts brought by Physi- 
cal Resistance and the Five Senses, and passes them over into the con- 
sciousness. Yet here its work is subjective, though the material upon 
which it acts is from without. 

d. Thus while the field of the Reason in absolute knowing is subjec- 
tive, the field of the Reason in relative knowing is objective. The 
former is confined to the being, and faculties, and operations of the mind 
itself; the latter traverses the whole universe external to the mind. 

e. It is in not discriminating the several kinds of knowing that so 
many errors in mental philosophy have been made. Some have sought 
to make one of these methods the law of all knowing ; and some have 



288 AUTOLOGY. 

taken another, not seeing 1 that our complete knowledge comes from 
the mi all. 

f. Knowing is often made to mean the knowing of external objects, 
regardless of the, questions, "How can the mind begin to know ? "and 
" Whence does the Reason obtain its ideas ? " 

g. The Mystics make all our knowing a spontaneity ; The Ration- 
alists make it a rationalism or idealism ; and the Sensationalists allow 
no knowledge but through the Sense ; whereas we have both facts hy 
the Consciousness, and ideas by the Reason, without the senses. Thus, 
manifestly, it is an incomprehensive view of what knowing is that leads 
to the different and defective theories on that subject. 

h. One man will tell you he wants no machinery about it ; that know- 
ing is knowing, and nothing more ; a simple spontaneity of the Con- 
sciousness. Another will tell you he wants nothing but pure reason and 
its ideas self-affirmed, without any facts either of consciousness or the 
senses. Another will have nothing but the facts of the senses, as the 
basis, if not the sum total, of all knowing. 

i. Others, again, who admit the necessity of both ideas and sensa- 
tion in order to knowledge, and who admit the necessity of conscious- 
ness in the mental economy, yet fail to, employ the Sense and the 
Consciousness for their legitimate purposes, and fail to derive ideas from 
the right source. They either ignore Consciousness or attempt to employ 
it in seeking external facts. They either assume ideas as self-affirmed 
by the Reason or born without it, or they attempt to derive them from 
the facts of the Sense. 

j. Thus we see the importance of fixing distinctly in the mind what 
knowing is, and that there are at least two generic and original kinds 
of knowing ; viz., Absolute and Relative, or Immediate and Mediate 
knowing ; . that absolute and immediate knowing is spontaneous and 
intuitive, while the mediate and conditioned knowing is always interpre- 
tative and explanatory ; and that while "both are experiences, yet the 
former is more intensely experimental than the latter. 



SECT. III. WHAT IS KNOWING, AS DISTINGUISHED BY THE FACUL- 
TIES, THE STATES, AND THE MODES PROMINENT IN THE ACT OF 
KNOWING? 

a. Knowing varies according to the state or mode in which the fac- 
ulty acts, and the nature of the thing to be known. 

b. Knowing, when considered according to the faculties, states, or 
modes prominent in any particular act of knowing, is divided into the 
following kinds ; viz., Conscious knowing, Rational knowing, Sense 
knowing, Intuitive knowing, Instinctive knowing, Dream knowing. 



THE INTELLECT. 289 

c. 1. Conscious knowing is by the Consciousness. 
* 2. Rational knowing is by the Reason. 

3. Sense knowing is by means of the Sense, interpreted by the 
Reason. 

4. Intuitive knowing takes place when we know instantaneously. 
This is. the sole characteristic of intuitive knowing; it is knowing at 
once by a flash or blow of any faculty. 

5. Instinctive knowing is by the subjective action of the elements of 
the will, the affections, the conscience, the animal appetites, the sensi- 
bilities, and the nerves, as they act through, and by the help of, the 
other faculties, and are interpreted by the Reason. 

6. Dream knowing is much the same as instinctive knowing, only it 
occurs in the reversed order, and during sleep. 

d. The Consciousness knows by self-seeing ; the Reason knows by 
self-comprehending ; the Sense knows by physical resistance and sensa- 
tions, as they are interpreted by the Reason. 

e. The Consciousness pervades the self with its self-seeing intelli- 
gence ; the Reason enspheres the self with its self-comprehending intel- 
ligence ; the Sense obtrudes the self with its impenetrable individuality 
upon other objects, and sensates them ; i. e., 

f. (1.) The Consciousness enconsciouses. (2.) The Reason ration- 
alizes, and (3.) the Sense collides and sensates ; and it may be added 
that (4.) intuition flashes, (5.) instinct feels, and (6.) dreaming does all 
things. 

g. (1.) The knowledge of subjective facts is by the Consciousness, 
which is introspective and self-seeing. (2.) The knowledge of subjective 
ideas, that is, ideas formed from subjective facts, is by the Reason, which 
comprehends them and is self-comprehending. (3.) The knowledge 
of external objects is by means of the senses, whose impressions are 
interpreted by the Reason. (4.) The knowledge of internal acts, emo- 
tions, feelings, and states of mind or body, is instinctive, and is given 
by the elements of the Will, by means of the Affections, the Conscience, 
the appetites, the nerves, and physical sensations ; yet, of course, al- 
ways interpreted by the Reason ; for alone they know nothing. (5.) 
The knowing of the Consciousness and the Reason are both immediate, 
intuitive, unconditioned, and absolute, and also mediate, relative, and 
interpretative. (6.) The knowing by the elements of the Will, the 
Affections, the Conscience, the appetites, the nerves, and animal sensi- 
bilities is instinctive, yet mediate, interpretative, and relative. 

We now take up the subject of knowing according to the faculties, 
states, and modes of knowing, respectively. 

37 



290 • AUTOLOGY. 

A. What is Conscious Knowing. 

a. The Consciousness is self-seeing, and knows, first, facts, — the facts 
of its own being and knowing which lie within itself, — and knows them 
immediately and absolutely. 

b. The Consciousness knows also what the Reason, by means of the 
Sense and other faculties, passes into it, mediately and relatively. 

c. The Consciousness finds its own first and legitimate objects of 
knowledge in itself, and the self of which it is a first, all-pervading, and 
inseparable element. 

d. Indeed, the essential intelligence and the essential activity are so 
blended in and with the self as to be identical with it. 

e. The self is, then, to the Consciousness, in the first instance, a sole 
object of knowledge. 

f. It, in fact, can know by its own power nothing but the self and 
its constituents, and the relations of the other faculties to it. 

g. And the Consciousness, being, as essential intelligence, an original 
element of the self, entering into its essence, penetrating its centre, 
and permeating its whole extent, interblending with its whole essential 
activity, needs no perceptive faculty to bring its objects of knowledge 
before it ; for its objects of knowledge are already blended with itself. 
It is itself of the self which is the object of its knowledge. Nor does 
it need any anterior ideas of itself with which to cognize itself, for it is 
itself a component part of the self which is the object of its cognition, 
and can therefore originate its own knowing, and begin to know with- 
out any medium. 

h. Thus the knower and the known are one and the' same, and the 
identity of the knower, the knowing, and the known (for the self is 
conscious of itself and of its own consciousness) makes the knowing 
of the consciousness original, direct, immediate, and absolute, not me- 
diate and relative. 

. i. We here know by direct, original, and absolute cognition of unity 
alone, and not by cognizing difference and relation. 

j. The self here knows itself immediately and absolutely, and not by 
distinguishing itself from the not-self. 

k. It would know itself by its own positive consciousness, even if 
there were no "not-self" from which to distinguish itself. 

I. The Consciousness is here the naked Intellect, and cognizes its 
own intelligence and its own activity as they combine to form one self 
with its constituents and their relations. 

m. And this it .does without the intervention of an idea of the Reason, 
or an object of physical resistance or the senses, and by a direct act of 
intelligence including both. 



THE INTELLECT. 291 

n. Thus the Consciousness knows its objects absolutely ; and it is 
hereby shown that the mind can know absolutely and by unity, and not 
simply relatively and by discerning differences. 

o. And that all its knowledge must necessarily begin in absolute 
knowledge ; indeed, that we cannot know anything relatively until we 
first know something absolutely. 

p. But the Consciousness does also know relatively when it receives 
intelligence from the Reason, through the senses or through any of the 
other faculties or states of the mind ; for in these cases the knower and 
the known are not identical, but are diverse. 

B. What is Rational Knowing ? 

a. Rational knowing is the act of the Reason. 

b. The Reason knows ideas, which it forms from the facts of con- 
sciousness, of which it is itself one. 

c. And it forms those ideas by an immediate, intuitive, and absolute 
knowing. • 

d. The Reason knows also external objects, by means of the Sense, 
mediately, interpretatively, and relatively. 

e. The Reason is self-comprehending, and the Consciousness is self- 
seeing, and the Cpmprehender and the comprehended are identical ; and 
hence the knowing in this case is also immediate and absolute, as in the 
case of Consciousness. 

/. Yet the Consciousness must first give the Reason to itself as a 
fact before it can comprehend itself. So must it give to it all facts of 
being; and thus all facts are in it, and become identical with it ; so 
that in all cases the comprehending is self-comprehending, and is im- 
mediate and absolute. 

g. For that which is essential intelligence, as a primordial element and 
formative principle of the self, becomes the fully-developed Conscious- 
ness as a faculty of the mind ; and this same Consciousness, as a faculty 
of the mind, develops itself into the faculty of the Reason, and thus 
carries with it into the very heart and centre of the Reason all the facts 
of consciousness. 

h. So that in comprehending both those facts and itself, and also its 
own act of comprehending, it is self-comprehending, and the compre- 
hender and the comprehended are, identical. 

i. In the comprehending of facts thus given to it, the Reason em- 
braces all its objects within itself, as the Consciousness does also, and it 
comes into direct contact with its object. 

j. But in the mere cognition of external objects, the Reason is not 
only outside of its object, but separated from it, and unable of itself to 
reach it ; in order, therefore, to know external objects, it must be 



292 AUTOLOGY. 

brought into contact with them by means of physical resistance and the 
senses, and by having- an idea of them already within itself formed from 
the facts of consciousness beforehand. 

k. That is, it cannot know external objects immediately and abso- 
solutely, but only mediately and relatively, and by distinguishing 
differences. 

I. Now, as it has been seen, physical resistance and the action of 
the senses bring the Reason into contact with the external objects of 
knowledge for the purpose of cognition, and the Reason itself has the 
power of obtaining certain ideas or certain knowledges of the knowable 
from the facts of consciousness beforehand, and of applying them to the 
objects brought before it by physical resistance and the senses, and with 
them to interpret, and translate, and cognize those objects. 

m. Ideas are the language of the soul and of all rational beings in 
heaven and in earth — the one universal speech of the whole universe — 
the tongue alike of gods, angels, and men. 

n. The soul has the elements of this 'language in the facts of its own 
consciousness. The Reason transforms these facts into ideas, by com- 
prehending their nature and design. 

o. The Reason discerns in the facts of consciousness what is universal 
and necessary, and, of course, true for' all rational beings and for all 
worlds, and thus possesses itself of the true and the one original lan- 
guage of the great God, and of all his rational creatures. 

p. Now, it is this language which the Reason discovers, creates, and 
learns by transforming facts into ideas and principles, in the act of 
rational knowing. This is rational knowing and the use of it. 

q. The Reason knows relatively also through the senses. As a 
faculty having ideas and' joined with the Sense, which gives it facts, if 
translates the impressions of the senses into the ideas of the Reason, or 
the language of the Sense into the language of the soul. 

r. This knowing, we shall see, has two parts, — perception and cog- 
nition, — and is the great means of obtaining a knowledge of external 
objects; and this brings us to the question,— 

C. What is Sense Kkowixg ? 

a. Sense Knowing is the knowing of the Reason by means of the 
Sense. , 

b. All sense knowing is therefore relative knowing, because the 
knower and the known are diverse. 

c. By means of the Sense, the Reason is brought into contact with 
the outer world, the sense impressions of whose objects it translates by 
its own ideas. 

d. By means of physical resistance the Reason knows the impene- 



THE INTELLECT. 293 

trability, or substance of external objects, or simply that external ob- 
jects exist. 

e. By the five senses, the Reason knows the qualities of external ob- 
jects. 

f. The knowledge which it thus obtains is not absolute, but mediate 
and relative knowledge. 

g. The nature and office of physical resistance and the senses are 
here very manifest, especially the part which they perform in the act of 
perceiving and cognizing external things, viz. : — 

h. That of bringing the Reason into contact with them. 

i. They are mere purveyors or feelers. 

j. The senses are armed with sensibility. 

h. The physical resistance is armed with simple impenetrability. 

I. By these means they do not cognize an object, but only make the 
Reason aware of its presence, both as to substance and quality. 

m. Physical resistance makes substance, and the senses make qual- 
ities, manifest to the Reason. 

n. The senses and physical resistance gather up external objects, and 
present them to the Reason ; the Reason names them in its own tongue, 
and translates them into its own universal language. This is what is 
usually and properly meant by knowing. 

o. The common answer to the question, " What is knowing ? " would 
give the meaning of knowing as in this definition — that it is the 
interpreting of the impressions of the Sense by the ideas of the Reason. 

p. But we have seen that there is a prior and deeper knowing upon 
which this depends, and without which it cannot be. 

q. Yet this knowing is interpretative, and is simply a translating. 
Knowing in this sense is translating. 

r. It is translating the facts of physical resistance and of the five 
senses into the ideas of the Reason ; or, in other words, it is translating 
the language of sense into the language of the soul. 

s. Being able, then, to know an external object, is being able to trans- 
late it into the language of the Reason or the soul. 

t. To translate is the same as to prove, or demonstrate. To prove 
is to show an unknown thing by means of a known one ; an obscure 
thing, or an intricate thing, by a plain and simple one. 

u. This operation implies that the plain and the simple are known to 
those to whom we would prove, explain, or demonstrate, in common 
with ourselves ; — 

v. As when, in algebra, I would explain an unknown quantity by 
means of a known one ; that is, I translate the unknown x into the 
known 10, and thus show what it is ; and this is knowing ; i. e., this is 
what it is to know external objects. 



294 AUTOLOGY. 

w. If a German, knowing both Italian and English, should translate 
Italian into English for an Englishman, he would make the Englishman 
know the meaning of the Italian. 

x. Just so the Reason, knowing ideas as the language of the soul, on 
the one hand, and the facts of consciousness as the language of sense, 
on the other, has the knowledge of both languages, and is able to trans- 
late the facts of sense into the ideas of the Reason, or the language of 
sense into the language of the soul, and thus to give to the Conscious- 
ness a knowledge of the external world. 

y. In algebra I find an unknown quantity by a known one ; that is, 
I translate the unknown "x" by the known ",10/' by bringing them 
into such relation as to show that they are equal to each other. 

z. Just so a fact of sense is translated by an idea of the Reason. 
The sensation is unknown until it appears equal to its corresponding 
idea, and thus it is demonstrated, translated, and known. 

aa. An American and a German might each be ignorant of the 
other's language, yet if both understood Latin, that would be a common 
language, and they could converse together. 

bb. So all minds must have a common or soul language, the language 
which consists of the ideas of the Reason. 

cc. These are universal and necessary, and possessed by all. 

dd. They are known by the Reason and by the Consciousness ; hence 
the Reason can translate the impressions made upon its own sensuous 
antennas, the senses, into these ideas, which are the universal language, 
and make them known thereby to the Consciousness. 

ee. Thus it is manifest that there must be a known before we can as- 
certain the unknown. There must be first a known language before 
there can be a translation of an unknown one ; and there must be a 
medium between the two. 

ff. All men must have a common language, into which they can trans- 
late, or in which they can write or describe whatever comes before 
them. 

gg. This original language of the soul is the first thing to be ascer- 
tained. 

hh. This language, or these things known, by which unknown things 
are discovered, are the ideas which the Reason forms from the facts of 
Consciousness ; and these must first be clearly known and set down be- 
fore we can translate intelligently anything into that language. 

ii. Rather, in order to know our knowing, and how we know, and 
what we do when we do know, we must look over the original language 
of the soul, and of all souls, which constitutes the primary knowl- 
edge of human beings, and all intelligent beings whatever, before we 
can proceed. 



THE INTELLECT. 295 

jj. To know external objects is to translate the unknown which [ 
find outside of the mind into the language of the already known within 
the mind. In other words, I must find that original language under- 
stood by the soul, spoken by nature, spoken by God, and by all rational 
beings in common ; and then I can, through this language, talk with 
souls, and with God and nature, and with all forms of rational and 
animal life, and know what they know, what is in them, and what they 
have in common with God and with all his creatures. 

kk. This language we shall discover and bring out in the next 
Division, or in Part Third, Division Third. 

II. The knowing by which we shall learn this language will be 
absolute knowing ; while the knowing which we shall know by means 
of this language will be relative knowing. 

D. What is Intuitive Knowing ? 

a. Intuitive knowing is rather a mode than a distinct kind of know- 
ing. Its distinguishing characteristic is simply the instantaneousness 
with which it knows. 

b. This element it holds in common with both absolute and instinctive 
knowing ; yet this latter has also other and controlling characteristics, 
while intuitive knowing has only the single characteristic of instan- 
taneousness. 

c. Intuitive knowing is not confined to any one faculty, but may be 
exercised by them all, and belongs to them all. 

d. The Consciousness knows intuitively, the Reason knows intui- 
tively, and the Sense knows intuitively ; and this knowing of these 
faculties has the instantaneousness which absolute knowing has when 
exercised by the same faculties, and is, so far forth, identical with it. 

e. Yet intuitive knowing is distinguished from absolute knowing by 
this : in absolute knowing the knower and the known must ever be 
identical ; while in intuitive knowing they need not be identical. 

f. Intuitive knowing has, however, two modes ; the one is called 
Pure Intuition, and is exercised by Consciousness and the Reason ; the 
other is called Empirical, and is exercised by the senses. 

g. Indeed, instinctive knowing has also the characteristic of instan- 
taneousness, and is, in this respect, an Intuitive knowing, although we 
distinguish it as Instinctive because it begins in the Affections, or some 
bodily, or nervous, or moral feeling. 

h. The term "intuitive" is, comparatively, of little importance; it 
marks no generic distinctions in kind, but only a variety in the mode of 
knowing. The terms " absolute " and "relative " distinguish more truly 
the kinds of knowing after that given by the faculties themselves. 



296 AUTOLOGY. 

E. What is Instinctive Knowing? 

I. a. Instinct is not a faculty distinct and separate, like the Conscious- 
ness, the Will, the Affections, the Reason, the Sense, and the Con- 
science, but is simply a mode of knowing- which is characterized more 
by the feelings than by the intellect, though it necessarily employs 
both. 

b. Instinct is the spontaneous activity of the Will, the Affections, the 
Conscience, and the Animal Sensibilities, and the Nervous System, pro- 
duced and interpreted by the action of the intellectual faculties, yet in 
which the feeling, sensibility, emotion, or conviction is so strong as to 
overpower and throw into forgetfulness and shade the intellectual pro- 
cess by which they were produced and are interpreted. 

c. Instinctive knowing is of five kinds — Bodily instinct ; Appetitive 
instinct ; Affectional instinct ; Moral instinct ; Personal instinct. 

d. (1.) The Bodily instincts arise out of the states of the body, as 
of the heart, lungs, liver, nerves, bowels, by means of their affinities or 
repugnances. They are stimulated or paralyzed by outward things, and 
the Reason interprets these states into something significant. (2.) Ap- 
petitive instinct is the quick, strong movement of the bodily appetites 
or passions. (3.) Affectional instinct is that of the various affections 
in their spontaneous affinities or revulsions. (4.) Moral instinct is that 
of the Conscience, approving or disapproving, accusing or excusing. 
(5.) Personal instinct is of a twofold character: it is Voluntative and 
Rational ; or, in other words, it is the instinct of freedom and of ration- 
ality ; for man is instinctively conscious that he is a free and rational 
soul. 

e. The consciousnesses are instinctive, because they are not actions of 
the Will, and of the Reason, acting choosingly and rationally, but mere 
spontaneities of freedom and ratignality. 

f. Thus a being has instinct in proportion to his amount of mind ; .and 
man has more instinct than the brute, because he has more rnind than 
the brute has. 

g. Instinct may be discriminated from Reason in this manner : The 
sensibilities are found by the Consciousness to be, in some particulars, 
in a strongly excited and distinctly marked state, while it has not been 
noted by what cause they have been thrown into that state. 

h. And we are more conscious of the feeling than of the intelligence; 
we know more of the state than of its cause ; and hence it is called 
instinctive. 

i. This instinct covers the whole range of animal and human feeling. 

j. In men the whole mind and body act more or less instinctively in 
some parts of their movements. 



THE INTELLECT. 297 

k. All the Affections, — Individual, Social, Patriotic, Philanthropic, 
./Esthetic, and Religious, together with the Conscience, and the Volun- 
tative and Rational nature, and all the bodily appetites and feelings, act, 
in some instances, instinctively. 

I. Anything that stirs the Affections or the Conscience, or awakens 
the consciousness of liberty or of rationality, of personality or the bodily 
feelings or appetites, produces an instinctive intelligence. 

m. The cause that has produced these states is always intellectual, 
but is in all cases so feeble as to be discerned only with great difficulty. 

n. Instinctive knowing is knowing by the effects which are produced 
on sensibility by the act of knowing, rather than by the intellectual 
action or process by which the fact or thing is brought before the mind 
and made known to it. 

o. For instance, a young duckling, just hatched by a hen with a 
brood of chickens, will run into the water, leaving the hen and chickens 
on shore ; and a chicken, hatched by a duck with her brood, will abide 
on shore while they sail away on the water. 

p. Birds and fish go to their respective elements guided entirely by 
constitutional feeling, with little or no exercise of intelligence connected 
therewith. 

q. So a human mother loves her child ; so human sympathy takes 
sides with the weak ; so the Conscience revolts against the wrong ; so 
the Will employs its freedom, and the Reason its rationality. 

r. So the young of swine a week old, removed from its nest in the 
sty in the night, and put into a box or bag and carried off miles by a 
route ever so tortuous, will, the moment it is left to itself, take its way 
directly back to its nest in the sty ; and that in a straight line, even 
though it must swim streams to get there. 

s. We have no way of accounting for this but by the fact that each 
motion makes so strong an impression upon the sensibilities as to keep 
up the impression of the route, just as in human beings it is the case, 
to a very limited extent. 

t. But the impression on the sensibilities is so much stronger than the 
intellectual act that produced it, that we do not note the intellectual act, 
but only the sensations produced by it, and hence name it after the sen- 
sation, and not after the intellectual act. 

u. It is therefore called instinct, or instinctive knowing ; not that it 
is not intellectual after all, but because so little intellectual action has 
produced so strong an impression on the sensibilities. 

v. Thus it appears clearly that instinct has no separate faculty, but 
that it is simply a mode of knowing in which all the faculties are em- 
ployed. 

w. This knowing, however, takes its name from those faculties whose 
38 



298 AUTOLOGY. 

mode of knowing chiefly characterizes it, and which act most promi- 
nently in it ; as when a mother loves her child, a bird flies in the air, a 
fish swims in the water ; without stopping to note any intellectual action 
leadiug thereto. 

x. In these cases the knowledge is to the Consciousness purely a 
matter of feeling ; it is hence called instinct ; yet there is in every case 
more or less antecedent intellectual action, which stirs the feeling and 
produces the instinct. 

II. a. Instinctive knowing must be distinguished from intuitive know- 
ing. 

b. Intuitive knowing is either pure, as when the Reason forms or 
creates an idea by comprehending, or empirical, as when a fact is hit 
upon by a glance of the eye or the quick action of the other senses. In 
both cases the knowing is immediate, or intuitive. 

' c. Instinctive knowing, on the contrary, is knowing through the 
Will (in its elemental consciousness of freedom simply, not in its 
choices as a Will), and the Reason (in its consciousness of rationality 
simply, not in its reasoning or comprehending as a Reason), and through 
the Affections, and the Conscience, the bodily appetites and sensibilities, 
rather than through the intellect in any of its faculties. 

d. Intuitive knowing "is purely intellectual, and is either by the Con- 
sciousness, the Reason, or the Sense. 

e. But instinctive knowing is so much by means of the involuntary 
action of the Affections and the Conscience, and the involuntary ele- 
ments of the Will and the rational nature, and of the bodily appetites 
and bodily sensibilities, that the intellectual action which it employs is 
scarcely perceived. 

f. I see at once with my reason that all right angles are equal ; that 
is intuitive. I see at once the sun in the heavens by my senses ; that 
also is intuitive ; but if I see a strong, full-grown boy take away the 
food of a weak and helpless hungry one, and drive him half naked into 
the street, I feel in a flash that this is cruel, barbarous, and wrong. 
This knowing is instinctive. 

g. It has more to do with my heart and conscience than with my 
intellect. The heart is strongly moved and rises up in a sense of cruelty 
and wrong. 

h. I may, on inquiry, find the boy to be wicked, a thief, a burglar, 
and an incendiary, and that the thrusting of him into the street was 
the only safety for a house and family. It was, then, my heart that told 
me of cruelty and wrong, and not my intellect. 

i. So the Will knows instinctively that it is free, and the Reason that 
it is rational. The bird builds her nest, the spider constructs its web, 



THE INTELLECT. 299 

the beaver piles up his dam and his house under water, the fox digs his 
hole, and the bee chooses its hive, and forms honey-comb, and conducts 
the economy and government of the swarm, all by instinct ; an instinct 
that is guided by feelings rather than by thoughts, by isolated facts 
rather than by experience or by conceptions. 

j. This is instinct": it is when any affection or sentiment, feeling or 
craving, rising up, reports itself to the Consciousness, and is translated 
by the Reason, yet leaving the feelings so much stronger than the intel- 
lectual operations that it swallows up all knowledge of the way in which 
they were excited. 

k. As Daniel Webster says of eloquence, " It is the clear conception 
outrunning the deductions of logic," so is instinct the clear conviction 
outrunning the processes of the intellect. It is the spontaneous action 
of all man's voluntative, rational, affectional, and moral, and sensitive, 
and bodily nature, which, while it is and must be apprehended by the 
intellect, is still stronger in its convictions of its own facts and states 
than it is of its own intellectual processes, so that it is instinctive rather 
than intellectual knowing. 

I. It is because the degree of intellectual action, whether of the senses 
or of the Reason, is so' small in instinctive knowing, and the feeling 
that is in it is so strong, that it comes to pass that this kind of know- 
ing has had attributed to it all strange, inexplicable, and seemingly 
preternatural impressions, coincidences, and presentiments as its 
products. 

m. Some unknown cause in the body or in the air, some condition of 
the brain, the heart, or the liver, or of any other organ of the body, 
awakens strange feelings, forebodings, suspicions ; we know not how 
or why, — something happens thereafter, and at once the curious feelings 
which we had are now turned into presages of the event. 

n. Here is the great source of superstition and of the pretence to 
supernatural gifts and revelations, things that lay such a fearful hold on 
ignorant, and even on intelligent minds. 

o. A very small event awakens strong sensibility. A mother sees 
the little shoe of her dead infant, and her whole heart is thrilled. We 
see the new moon, for the first time after its appearance, over our left 
shoulder, and we feel uncomfortable until it is forgotten, because in our 
childhood we were told that it "betokened bad luck." The war-horse 
fully caparisoned is led in a procession with the empty saddle, and we 
are stirred with thoughts of the fallen hero who rode him in battle. 

p. All these are modes of instinctive knowing. They may be relia- 
ble and true as to the knowledge which they give, and also, like the 
other faculties, they may be erroneous, and may, in turn, mislead. 



300 AUTOLOGY. 

q. When genuine, they give the most reliable and unerring kind of 
knowledge. 

r. The scientific mechanic may, with a plumb and a right-angled 
levelling instrument, ascertain, with great exaetness, whether the floor of 
the trench or trough which he is making is level or not ; but if, per- 
chance, a little water is let into it, it will, by its flow, tell with' most 
unerring certainty whether it is level or not, without any instrument. 

s. So by our faculties of Sense and Reason, and by observation and 
comparison, and judgment in applying rules and tests, we may find out, 
with some accuracy, the true character of an act ; but let the thing once 
come to the heart, and the decision will often be immediate ; the in- 
stinctive sense of humanity of right and wrong will speak at once, 
and definitely. 

t. Solomon was unable to detect the truth as to the true mother ; 
both women appeared equally true until he proposed to divide the child 
with the sword ; then at once the instinctive love of the true mother 
broke out ; and the utter absence of true motherly feeling in the other 
showed with equal clearness her unnaturalness and her false claims. 

u. In like manner the spirit of Satan may at any time move the sus- 
ceptibilities with temptation when healthy, and possess the susceptibili- 
ties with satanic presence" when diseased ; such, doubtless, were the 
cases of evil possession in Christ's time. 

v. On the other hand, it is through the susceptibilities that, the still 
small voice of the Holy Ghost speaks, stirring them to instinctive 
action. 

w. Thus is the full nature of instinct discovered. It is an original 
and genuine mode of knowing ; and the knowledge which it communi- 
cates may be true or false, according to the condition of the mind. 

III. a. We thus see, finally, that knowing is achieved by means of 
all the faculties of the mind. Conscious knowing is an intelligent spon- 
taneity. Rational knowing is a rational spontaneity. Sensuous knowing 
is a sensuous spontaneity, and also a translation of the sensuous into 
the rational. Instinctive knowing is an instinctive spontaneity of all 
the faculties of the mind, as its chief characteristic ; but it is also a 
translation of these instinctive spontaneities by the Reason. 

b. The spontaneous knowing in all these cases is manifestly imme- 
diate, and in the case of the Consciousness and the Reason it is 
intuitive and absolute. In the case of the sensuous and instinctive 
knowing it is interpretative, and mediate, and relative knowing. 

c. The Consciousness engrasps both its own knowledge and its own 
objects of knowledge, giving internal and primal facts. This is imme- 
diate and intuitive, unconditioned and absolute knowledge. 



THE INTELLECT. 301 

d. The Reason transfigures these same primary facts of Consciousness 
into primary and necessary ideas and principles, which, thus being 
already in the consciousness, are all immediate, and unconditioned, and 
absolute knowledge. 

e. The essential impenetrability of physical resistance brings the per- 
son into contact with the reality, or impenetrability, of external objects, 
all of which the Reason translates, by means of the ideas already formed 
from the facts of consciousness, into knowledge, and passes that knowl- 
edge over to the consciousness. 

/. All knowing, therefore, which is by physical resistance and the 
senses, is mediate, conditioned, and relative ; for it is a translation of 
the unknown into the known by a known medium. 

., g. To know external objects is to translate them into internal ideas, 
or knowledge. 

h. The knowing which is by means of the elements of the' Will, the 
rational nature, the Conscience, the bodily appetites, and sensibilities, 
and affections, is instinctive, yet relative and interpretative ; but the 
state of the susceptibilities is so much more strong and clear than the 
knowledge that produced them, that it is called Instinctive, rather than 
Interpretative. 

i. The sense of wrong in. the wounded conscience, and the shock to 
human sensibility in the heart, are clear, strong, and intelligible, while 
the knowledge that occasioned them may be faint and small ; hence it is 
called instinctive knowing, and is, in all cases, a method, and not a 
faculty of knowing. 

P. Dream Knowing. 

I. a. All dreaming is the reaction of the sensibilities upon the In- 
tellect during imperfect sleep. 

b. In waking hours impressions are made upon the sensibilities by 
the acts, events, and thoughts of the day. 

c. Or the organs or members of the body are affected by pleasure or 
by pain, by excitement or by abuse, by gratification or by violence. 

d. Night comes, and sleep closes the senses ; the Reason resigns ; 
all the intellect is dormant. 

e. But the nerves which have received a shock by day, the stomach 
overloaded, the affections which have been deeply moved by hope, fear, 
love, anger, joy, ambition, anxiety, business, pleasure, toil, play, study, 
writing, speech-making, money-changing, merchandise, farming, naviga- 
tion, railroading, engineering, anything, everything, do not sleep. 

/. The affections of the mind, the organs or members of the body 
having been aroused by any of these means during the daytime, resume 
their involuntary and instinctive action during sleep, and act so strongly 



302 > AUTOLOGY. 

as to come into intelligent consciousness through the Reason, which 
cognizes and often remembers them. 

g. Thus is dreaming, in the first instance, purely instinctive knowing. 

h. But these instinctive acts of the sensibility, the heart, or other 
organs of the body, moving spontaneously and involuntarily in the first 
instance, force themselves on the recognition of the Reason, and then 
excite in it thoughts, and reasonings, associations, and fancies, and 
imaginings, which it had never experienced, and which had never 
existed before. 

i. Thus dreaming has two stages. First, the sensibilities are 
wrought into action by the events of the day ; and that excited action 
is so strong that when the night comes on, and the Will and the Reason 
and the senses are asleep, it goes on involuntarily and instinctively, 
and compels the Reason to take cognizance of it, and often to remem- 
ber it. 

j. The second stage of dreaming is when the involuntary emotions 
of the sensibilities not only compel recognition and remembrance, but 
when they so stir the intellect as to cause new thoughts and strange 
combinations to arise. 

k. These new thoughts will be kindred to those in the mind before, 
and frequently extend to long trains and concatenations of events, 
dramatic scenes, playful incidents or casualties, triumphs or defeats, 
things found in nature, and also unnatural and unaccountable oddities. 

I. These often react again upon the feelings, and produce new and 
stronger, and, sometimes, truthful successions of thoughts and events in 
the mind. 

m. In this second stage the action or wandering of the intellect will 
be according to the laws of association, either of events, emotions, or 
logical relations, and may extend in any direction, and to any degree 
of extravagance which any former experience or knowledge may 
resemble or suggest. 

n. The whole universe of past experience belongs to dream-land, and 
may be traversed and reconstructed at pleasure by dreams. 

o. A little light slips through cracks and key-holes into a dark 
chamber,- and makes images and figures there of what is passing with- 
out ; so a little intelligence slipping, as Pope says, "through cracks 
and zigzags of the head," falls upon the heart and conscience, and all 
the emotional nature, and stirs them strongly, and gives us instinctive 
knowing. 

p. And in dreaming, the emotional nature, which has been wrought 
up and excited in waking hours by that which came into it through the 
intellect, continues its action, and forces its emotions into the intellect 
from within, and compels its half-awake recognition. 



THE INTELLECT. 303 

q. The intelligence which first lets in the facts and thoughts that 
produce emotions and give instinctive knowing, recognizes, after we 
are asleep, the unceasing action of the same emotions. It is the same 
emotion in both cases; but in the case of instinctive knowing, the 
intellectual action is first, and before the emotional actions, and the cause 
of them. 

r. But in dreaming, the intellectual action is last, and after the 
emotional action, and caused by it. The half-awake intellect takes cog- 
nizance of the emotions which, in waking hours, it itself had caused, or 
had been carried through. 

s. Dreaming is, therefore, a form of instinctive knowing; but it 
always takes place in an order the reverse of instinctive knowing ; for 
instinctive knowing has intelligence first, though small, and then strong 
emotions afterwards. Dream knowing has the strong emotions first, and 
the feebler intellectual action afterwards ; while all other forms of know- 
ing begin in intellectual action, and end in affectional, ethical, and 
nervous action, and in action of the animal sensibilities. 

t. Dream knowing begins its action in the affections, the conscience, 
the nerves, and the animal sensibilities, which have kept on in a state 
of involuntary action after the intellect went to sleep, and completes its 
knowing by forcing the intellect to a partial waking state, in which it 
takes cognizance of their action. 

u. Instinct begins in the intellect, and completes itself in the feeling. 
Dreaming begins in the feelings, and completes itself in the intellect. 
Dreaming is simply instinct reversed ; or, rather, dreaming is instinct 
asleep. 

v. As to the reliableness of dream knowing, it must be observed that, 
as instinctive knowing may often be more correct and reliable than 
rational and sensuous knowing, so may dream knowing sometimes be 
more correct than either rational or sensuous cognitions, or than instinct 
itself, possibly leading to solutions and discoveries. 

w. For the emotions which have been aroused by waking events may 
not only have been so strong as to mislead the intellect, but as to mis- 
lead themsel-ves also ; for the instinctive impulses may have been dis- 
torted, or they may have been too intense during waking hours, as in 
passion or fear, to allow just and accurate knowledge of what was 
passing. 

x. But in sleep the action of the emotions may sometimes be more 
calm, sober, natural, proportionate, and balanced, than amidst the con- 
fusion of waking events ; and thus the judgment or the appearances in 
dreams may sometimes be the truer ones. 

y. But not always ; for the distortion may be increased, rather than 
diminished, by sleep and the reactions of the emotional nature upon the 



304 AUTOLOGY. 

intellect, and again upon itself. The imagination often comes in with a 
reduplication of all the excitements of the scenes of actual life. 

II. a. It here may be properly asked, why dream knowing was 
chosen by God as a means of revelation, and how it 'could be made to 
subserve that purpose. 

b. The reply is, that God by his spirit could stir the' involuntary emo- 
tions of the heart, and awaken thus the intellect into action, and give to 
it such suggestions, such thoughts, such views, as he choose. He could 
have the whole mind under his control while asleep, and could play upon 
it as he pleased. 

c. It is obvious, however, that the moving of the emotions was by 
his own supernatural agency. 

d. And this is the only difference between the dreams which nature, 
or the events of human experience, excite, and those which God pro- 
duces, viz., the cause. 

e. Ordinary dreams have no authority, however good, definite, or im- 
portant ; but when God himself by his own spirit stirs the emotions of 
the soul, then the thoughts and the knowledge thus given are from him, 
and have his authority. • . 

f. On the contrary, any knowledge, which, by our own pdwer, we 
may obtain of anything without us by instincts or dreams within, is only 
a rational inference made by the Reason from our own internal states, 
feelings, and motives, to those of others without us ; and is, consequently, 
neither instructive nor miraculous. 

g. It is here also apparent how dreams and instincts, from the very 
vagueness and subjectivity of their nature, may be made the means of 
self-delusion, superstition, and fanaticism. 

h. Dreams, then, and instincts are not to be regarded as any more 
divine and certainly as not so reliable, on the whole, as rational and 
sensuous knowing. 

i. They, substantially, can never reveal anything new ; their knowing 
is only the revelation of the sensibility, which, like a candle in a cellar, 
sends out a little light through the window, and reveals what is in the 
cellar, and not what is outside of it. 



SECT. IV. WITH WHAT KIND OF KNOWING, AND WITH WHAT 
FACULTY OF THE INTELLECT, CAN THE MIND BEGIN TO KNOW ? 

A. a. The questions, how can the mind begin to act, how can it 
begin to know, lie, as we have seen, at the foundation of all mental 
science. They have already been discussed at length in the very begin- 
ning of this work. The question, how can the mind begin to act, has 



THE INTELLECT. 305 

been fully discussed and had its legitimate answer and application in the 
treatment of the Will and the Affections. The question, how can the 
mind begin to know, has also been opened and shown, but will now 
come up in direct reference to the Intellect, in the examination of which 
it will find its legitimate answer and application. 

b. It must here be recalled that all knowing is either absolute know- 
ing or relative knowing, and that absolute knowing takes place when 
the knower and the known are identical ; while relative knowing takes 
place when they are diverse. It must also be observed that absolute 
knowing is immediate and intuitive, while relative knowing is mediate 
and interpretative. » 

c. Let it also be noted that, in relative knowing, external facts are 
perceived, translated, and cognized by the reason, by means of its own 
original and necessary ideas, when such facts are presented by the 
Sense ; while, in absolute knowing, no facts of the Sense, and no ideas 
of the reason, are, or can be, employed. 

d. For, indeed, the ideas do not as yet exist, and cannot exist until 
absolute knowing has first taken place ; for it is absolute knowing that 
produces ideas in the first instance ; and as for the facts of sense, they 
cannot be known until after the mind has ideas to know them with. One 
of the first' and chief offices of absolute knowing is to furnish the mind 
with the ideas that qualify it for relative knowing. 

e. The question here arises, with which of the three faculties of the 
Intellect, viz , the Consciousness, the Reason, or the Sense, can we 
begin our knowing ? 

/. To this it is replied that we have already found that we cannot be- 
gin our knowing by the reason, or by the sense ; for, although we are 
provided with a faculty for forming ideas, and a method of bringing ex- 
ternal objects before the mind for cognition, and seem thus ready to 
enter at once upon the field of external knowledge, yet we find, by the 
very philosophy of knowing external things, and the nature of the intel- 
lect itself, and its relation to an external world, that, on the one hand, we 
cannot know external facts without first having subjective ideas with 
which to recognize and interpret them ; and, on the other hand, we can- 
not have an idea without first having a fact from which to form that 
idea. All this was necessarily anticipated in the preliminary chapters 
of Parti.; but in order to the clear and satisfactory conduct of the 
discussion now before us, it will be necessary to restate the positions 
and arguments there set forth : 

g. To wit — If we undertake to cognize an external object by a mere 

physical contact or sensation, we find that contact and sensation totally 

unintelligible, that it is a mere sensation or consciousness of contact 

with objectivity, of which we can know nothing without an idea possessed 

39 



306 • AUTOLOGY. 

beforehand with, which to interpret it ; that is, without a knowledge of 
what is knowab'le about it, possessed by the reason, with which to know 
and recognize, interpret, and translate it. 

As we cannot interpret an unknown word of a foreign language 
without a previous knowledge of the corresponding English word, so we 
cannot interpret an object which physical resistance, or the five senses, 
brings before us, without knowing beforehand what is knowable about 
such an object ; that is, having an idea of, and about, the object before- 
hand, as he who translates must know both languages. 

For the act of physical resistance and of sensation is simply coming 
into contact with the external object which is to be cognized .and 
known. The cognition of that object consists in applying to it the 
knowledge of the knowable about it which the mind already has, or 
interpreting or translating that object with which it is thus brought into 
contact by the idea already possessed of it by the reason ; for all ideas 
are simply knowledges of the knowable.- 

h. But here we come upon the other part of the difficulty, viz., that 
without a fact we cannot have an idea — we cannot know the knoAvable 
of a thing until we have the thing itself; we cannot have an idea of an 
object until we have the object itself. An idea, if it exist at all, must 
be an idea of something ; the knowable must be the knowable of some- 
thing ; for if an idea is an idea of nothing, of course it is itself nothing. 
We cannot, therefore, have an idea without first having a fact from 
which to form it ; and an external fact we cannot have without first 
having an idea with which to recognize and obtain it. And this brings 
us clearly to this point, — 

i. To wit, That we must have some other faculty than physical resist- 
ance and the five senses with which to furnish the reason with the facts 
from which to form its ideas. 

j. At this point, we may remark in passing, lies the great contro- 
versy between the idealist and the materialist. Says the idealist, and 
truly, " We are incapable of cognizing or knowing a fact save -by and 
through an idea." Says the materialist, " We are incapable of having 
an idea without first having a fact ; " and here in the midst of this 
confusion arises a haughty and triumphant scepticism, and affirms, 
" You are both right, and therefore we know nothing ; " or a bewildered 
mysticism exclaims, "You are all right," and betakes itself to mere 
spontaneity, or to revelation, as the only sources of valid knowledge. 
Yet all the while, amidst this confusion and clamor, common sense 
affirms, "■ We do know something ; we have ideas ; we have facts ; we 
have knowledge ; the human mind is not imbecile, nor is it deceived, 
nor a deceiver ; our nature is not a lie ; the God of our nature is not a 
liar." And so it is, — common sense is right. 



THE INTELLECT. 307 

k. The difficulty is not that reason and the sense contradict, but 
that each implies aud presupposes the other, and therefore they cannot 
act simultaneously, nor can either of them be a first step in the attain- 
ment of knowledge ; they therefore conduct us to this point, viz., that 
we must have some other way of beginning to know than the reason 
or the senses ; we must have, first, facts, in order to form ideas, and 
some other way of obtaining those first facts from which we form ideas 
than by physical resistance and the five senses ; and also some other 
way of forming ideas than by the interpretation or cognition of external 
and sensuous facts ; for the knowledge of these facts and ideas implies 
and requires the existence of both facts and ideas already .as a means of 
knowing them. 

I. We need, in short, a way of obtaining facts directly and immedi- 
atejy without the intervention of physical resistance, or the five senses, 
or of the ideas of the reason, and a way of forming ideas from facts that 
does not imply the existence of ideas already in possession with which 
to interpret them. 

m. We need a method of knowing facts and of forming ideas immedi- 
ately, unconditionally, and absolutely, and not mediately, conditionally, 
and relatively. Indeed, we see clearl}' by the foregoing discussion that 
it is impossible to know anything mediately and relatively until we 
have first known something immediately and absolutely. We have 
already shown that all knowing must begin in absolute knowing, and 
cannot begin in relative knowing, for the reason that relative knowing 
always implies and presupposes absolute knowing as already existing 
and going before it. It is therefore obvious that we cannot begin our 
knowing by any act of the sense, that is, by physical resistance and 
the five senses. 

n. But it is not enough that the act by which we seek to begin our 
knowing be an act of absolute knowing ; for the reason knows ideas 
absolutely ; but it must be an absolute knowing of facts ; for although 
the reason knows ideas absolutely, yet it cannot know them at all until 
it first has facts out of which to form them. The absolute knowing, 
therefore, by which the mind can begin to know must be an absolute 
knowing of facts. 

o. What faculty, then,- is it which can begin our knowing by an 
absolute knowing of facts ? The reply is, that the only faculty which 
can thus give us facts — the original and primary facts of being — with- 
out the help of the Sense or the Reason, and give them to us with an 
immediate, unconditioned, and absolute knowing, is the Consciousness. 

p. When the Consciousness has thus put us in possession of facts, 
then can the reason form from them its original and primary ideas with 
which to cognize the external things brought before it by the sense. 



308 AUTOLOGY. 

q. This knowing of the consciousness is immediate and absolute, be- 
cause the knower and the known are identical. So also is this forming' 
of ideas by the reason from the facts of consciousness immediate, 
unconditioned, and absolute knowing, because the knower and the 
known are identical. The identity of the reason with the facts of 
consciousness which it forms into ideas is apparent when we consider 
that the reason is a development of the consciousness which carries into 
it ail its primary facts, and which, as a whole with all its facts, is compre- 
hended by the ensphering reason. The facts -of consciousness are 
placed within the reach of the comprehension of the reason without 
the aid of the sense, because they are subjective and already in the 
embrace of the consciousness, which holds them and the reason itself, 
and all its comprehensions, in the unity of a common and inhering 
intelligence. 

r. The reason, therefore, forms its ideas from these facts with 
which it comes into immediate contact, and which are the reason itself 
and its own operations, the consciousness and the constituents of being 
which it holds and which it carries into the reason when the reason, as 
a new and essentially distinct faculty is developed from it ; hence, in 
the formation of ideas by the reason, the knowing is immediate and 
absolute ; for the knower and the known are identical. 

s. It is true that in the order of nature and of logic the consciousness 
must first give facts before the reason can give ideas ; yet the conscious- 
ness must also give the reason itself, as well as other facts of being, to 
the reason before it can form ideas ; and the reason, in compi-ehending, 
first comprehends itself and the other facts of consciousness, and then 
comprehends its own comprehending ; and thus most clearly are the 
knower and the known identical, and the knowing is absolute knowing. 

t. Thus does the distinction between absolute and relative knowing 
clearly appear, and the distinction between the absolute knowing of 
facts by the consciousness, and the absolute knowing of ideas by the 
reason, stands out fully before us ; and thus also is it manifest that all 
knowing must be begun by the absolute knowing of facts by the faculty 
of consciousness. 

B. The Position of Aristotle and Kant in Relation to the Question, 
With what Kind of Knowing, and with what Faculty, can the 
Mind begin to know ? 

a. We cannot better illustrate the points here in discussion than by 
referring to the systems of Aristotle and Kant, the former tending to 
sensationalism, and the latter to idealism, though neither intended to 
teach these doctrines. One method of mental philosophy is to examine 



THE INTELLECT. 309 

all the objects which -are knowable, and thence infer what the fac- 
ulties of the mind are. Another is to examine the faculties of the 
mind, and infer what there is to be known. The former is the method 
of Aristotle, and the latter is that of Kant. Should Aristotle land at 
New York, as the port of the United States, and wish to know what 
were the products of the whole country, he would, according- to his 
method, go over the whole land from state to state, from farm to farm, 
and factory to factory, and gather up specimens of all the products 
he could find, and thrus ascertain from observation what the country 
produced. And after having thus gathered, all the facts, he would 
then classify them. 

Should Kant come to America, and wish to know its products, he 
would, according to his method, go into the stores, shops, and ware- 
houses, wood and lumber yards, and all places where produce is re- 
ceived and sold, and take note of the weights and measures, gauges 
and balances ; such as bushels, pecks, tons, hundreds, quarters, pounds, 
and "ounces ; feet, inches, yards ; quarts, gallons, barrels, hogsheads ; 
sacks, boxes, crates, &c, &c, for measuring and weighing all sorts of 
commodities in dry, long, solid, or liquid measure, and thus learn what 
the products of the country must be. 

These measures he would, of course, reduce to certain generic kinds ; 
and should these methods be complete and exhaustive, they would, 
doubtless, be correct and reliable, and show the same result, giving us a 
true knowledge of the products of the country, and bojth of the knower 
and the knowable. Applying this illustration to tile knowledge of the 
mind, we find that Kant claims that his method is the better, because it is 
exhaustive ; it examines the one thing, the mind ; while that of Aristotle 
is committed for knowing every object in the universe, and consequently 
cannot be complete and exhaustive. 

b. But these methods fall, each, into opposite errors. Kant very ob- 
viously here attempts to give us ideas without facts, which attempt we 
have shown to be absurd ; for an idea of nothing is itself nothing. We 
demand, " Where do these mental measures, weights, and ideas come 
from ? " 

Aristotle, on the contrary, attempts to give us external facts without 
ideas, which is also absurd ; for, as we have seen, we cannot know ex- 
ternal facts until we first have ideas with which to recognize and know 
them. We demand, " How does he know these facts, which he classifies 
into categories ? " They do not make the knowing of primary facts by 
the consciousness, nor the forming of ideas by the reason from the facts 
of consciousness, any part of their theories of knowing, but assume, at 
once, that we can have ideas without facts, and external facts without 
ideas. But that, by their method, we can have neither ideas within, 



310 AUTOLOGY. 

nor cognize facts without, will appear when we observe that we can 
know external objects only by having an idea of them in the mind be- 
forehand, and then a contact or a sensation of them by means of physical 
resistance, or a sensation of the senses, and then interpreting the con- 
tact or the sensation by the idea. In this way we come to have a 
knowledge of the object. 

c. Now, in order to know external objects, what qualifications must 
the reason have ? Manifestly, it must have, first, ideas, or a knowledge 
of the knowable, concerning any object of kno'wledge ; and, secondly, 
it must have the power of coming into contact with the object, of knowl- 
edge, either by physical resistance or by the senses, and so coming into 
contact with it as to bring it before the mind for cognition, and for ap- 
plying to it, and interpreting it b}' the knowable of objects in the act of 
cognition; and this applying of the ideas which reason has to the con- 
tact or the sensations which physical resistance or the senses give, and 
this interpreting of them by the idea, is the act of knowing the object. 

d. 1. The faculty which furnishes primary facts is the consciousness. 

2. That faculty which acquires and possesses the prerequisite knowl- 
edge or ideas, and applies them to the objects with which • physical 
resistance or sensation brings us in contact, or with these* ideas or 
knowledges interprets and cognizes those objects, is the reason.' 

3. Those faculties or modes of sensuous contact by which the reason 
comes into contact with external objects of knowledge, and. by which 
they are brought before it for cognition, are known as physical resist- 
ance, or impenetrability, and the five senses. 

4. The reason armed with its ideas, together with these two modes of 
sensuous contact, constitutes the whole of our. faculties for knowing 
external objects ; they perform all its functions. 

5. And let it also be here noted that the reason, in order to cognize 
external. objects, performs- two functions ; while the forms of sensuous 
contact, viz., physical resistance and the senses, perform each but one. 

6. The reason itself at first provides itself with a knowledge of the 
knowable from the facts of consciousness, and then, after having thus 
educated and qualified itself for knowing, it, with that knowledge, inter- 
prets, translates, or cognizes the sensuous object with which physical 
resistance or the senses bring us in contact, while physical resistance 
only shows substance, and the senses only sensate qualities. 

7. Thus is the knowing of external objects by the reason, through 
the senses and physical resistance, and* by means of our ideas, a trans- 
lation, and, obviously, cannot be done unless those ideas are first pos- 
sessed. 

8. Knowing, then, cannot begin with the reason, nor with the facul- 
ties of sense ; for neither can act until the other has acted ; nor can it 



THE INTELLECT. 311 

begin in ideas, nor in external facts .; for each requires that some other 
thing- be first known before it can itself be known. 

e. I. We come, now, from the stand-point of Aristotle and Kant, 
again directly to the question, " With what faculty can we begin to 
know?" for they have not answered it ; and the reply is the same as 
before ascertained, that we can begin to know only in a faculty that can 
know facts without the help of the sense, on the one hand, and without 
the help of ideas, on the other. It must of necessity be a knowing in 
which the knower and the known are identical. The kind of knowing, 
therefore, which alone can begin our knowledge, is immediate, uncondi- 
tioned, and absolute knowing ; and the faculty which alone can begin 
our knowing is consciousness ; for consciousness alone can know facts 
in the first instance, and without ideas, on the one hand, and without 
the sense, on the other. 

2. This will appear when we consider that the consciousness is self- 
seeing, and has itself for the object of knowledge, the knower and the 
known being identical. The consciousness knows spontaneously and 
absolutely; and absolute knowing can alone begin to know. Imme- 
diate, unconditioned, and absolute knowing is intuitive and spontaneous ; 
while the mediate, conditioned, and relative knowing is interpretative 
and explanatory : hence the immediate, unconditioned, and absolute 
knowing is the only knowing that can originate its own knowing, or 
begin to know ; while the mediate, conditioned, and relative knowing 
can never be self-originated, but always implies, and presupposes, and 
is dependent upon a knowing going before it. 

3. Now, the consciousness knows immediately, unconditionally, and 
absolutely. It is its own fact and its own knower, and engrasps itself 
in its own conscious intelligence spontaneously and involuntarily, and 
thus knows directly its objects and its knowing. 

/. Thus, although all ^knowing is by the consciousness, the reason, 
essential impenetrability, or physical resistance, and the five senses, yet 
consciousness alone has the power to originate its own .knowing; that 
is, to begin to know or to begin' its own knowledge independent of any 
other faculty. It alone, therefore, begins all our knowledge, — all that 
any of the other faculties know ; and in order to do this it combines in 
some sort in itself both sense and the cognitive reason, both the «power 
of Goming into contact with its object, and of cognizing it when so in 
its grasp. Consciousness engrasps the self which is itself, and both 
grasps and cognizes by the same act. The reason knows or compre- 
hends ideas when facts are brought before it, and knows them directly 
and originally. 

g. By physical resistance, or essential impenetrability, and the senses, 
are objective and sensuous things brought before the reason by which 



312 AUTOLOGY. 

they are interpreted and .given as knowledge to the consciousness 
within. 

h. The. knowing of primary facts by the consciousness, therefore, is a 
cognition, and an essentially intelligent spontaneity. The forming and 
knowing of primary ideas by the reason from the facts of consciousness 
is a comprehension, an essentially rational spontaneity. 

i. The knowing of external objects by the reason, through the means 
of essential impenetrability, or physical resistance, and the senses, is a 
translation of the external contact or sensation, through the medium of 
the idea, to the consciousness within. 

j. Instinctive knowing is by all the faculties, and is both spontaneous 
and interpretative. 

k. The sole ground, therefore, of the knowing of the consciousness 
is its own existence ; there are no conditions whatever. Its knowing, 
then, is unconditional, immediate, and absolute. It alone can begin our 
knowing, as we shall see in the next chapter. 

I. The knowing of ideas by the reason, has this one condition, viz., 
that the facts of consciousness be given to it, which is simply giving 
itself to itself, and is simply the condition of its own existence (which 
is no condition at all). This done, its forming of ideas from those facts 
is immediate, unconditioned, and absolute. 

m. The grounds and conditions of the knowing or. the translating by 
the reason of objects presented by physical resistance and the senses, 
are the possession of ideas or knowledges of the knowable by the 
reason, and the mutual and essential impenetrability of the object thus 
perceived, and the perceiving mind or, person. 

n. And here it becomes important to note fully and most particularly 
the difference between the method by which the reason forms or compre- 
hends ideas from the facts of consciousness, and that by which in the 
use of ideas it cognizes, interprets, and tyanslates external objects 
brought before it by physical resistance and the senses. The former is 
absolute and the latter is relative knowing. 

o. We have seen already that the act of cognizing external- objects is 
done by the reason with physical resistance and the senses ; that these 
last — physical resistance and the senses — perforin but one office each, 
whileHhe reason performs two. These two functions of the reason are, 
first, the formation of ideas ; and, secondly, the application of them 
to external objects. Without the first the second cannot be ; and the 
second can never precede or give the first. 

p. And here we see that in forming ideas there is need that the reason 
should employ a mode of knowing different from that which it employs 
in cognizing external objects. In the. latter case it interprets an object, 
which physical resistance or the action of the five senses brings before 



THE INTELLECT. 313 

it, by an idea of that object, or a knowledge of the knowable of that 
object, obtained from the anterior facts of consciousness. But in com- 
prehending' an idea, or forming it from the facts of consciousness, it can. 
not employ a physical resistance or a sensation of that idea, and then 
interpret that physical resistance of an idea, or that sensation of an idea, 
by an idea of an idea. There is here, plainly, as in the case of know- 
ing facts by the consciousness, a necessity for first knowing something 
immediately, directly, and absolutely, before anything can be known 
relatively. The reason must needs comprehend the idea directly, im- 
mediately, and absolutely, from a fact, of consciousness, without the 
intervention of anything else. 

q. We shall clearly see this when we call to mind the difference be- 
tween the relation of the reason to the facts of consciousness, and its 
relation to the objects of the external world. In the former case, the 
fact is already in the consciousness, and the reason finds it there, and 
has nothing to do with introducing it there, or anything to do, in any 
way, in reference to it, but to form its ideas from it. In the latter case, 
it finds the object of the external world,, with which it is brought into 
contact by physical- resistance and the senses, outside of the couscfous- 
ness, and that its own office is to introduce them into the consciousness 
for the first time by means of an idea which it uses as an interpreter or 
lens for that purpose. 

r. The relation which the reason here holds to the facts of conscious- 
ness from which it forms its ideas, is thus seen to be entirely different 
from that which it holds to the object or facts of the external world. 
The reason is only a development of the consciousness, and is identical 
with it and all its facts. 

s. We must here also not fail to observe that the facts of our internal 
self, upon which the reason forms its ideas, come to us' upon very dif- 
ferent authority, and by means of a very different faculty from that 
which gives us facts of the external world ; and also that our ideas, or 
knowledge of the knowable, come to us from a different source from 
that from which our knowledge of the external world comes to us. 

t. The consciousness gives us the primary facts of our internal self, 
and gives them directly and absolutely. External facts are given to us 
relatively through physical resistance and the action of the five senses 
interpreted and translated b}' the reason through an idea. 

u. Now, the office of the reason in forming ideas from the facts of 
consciousness is very different, and the material which it acts upon 
when it forms ideas from the facts of consciousness is very different 
from that which it performs, and the materials which it works on, in 
cognizing the facts of the external world. 

v. The facts of the external world with which physical resistance 
40 



314 ' AUTOLOGT. 

and the action of the senses bring us in contact, are not in the con- 
sciousness until they have first passed through the reason, which, with 
its ideas, interprets thein to the consciousness and passes them into it ; 
while the facts of our subjective nature have first passed through the 
consciousness, and are known by it, in the first instance, before they 
come into the reason, and before the reason forms them into ideas. 

w. In this latter case, the reason turns a fact of consciousness into an 
idea; in the former case, the reason turns an idea which it has formed 
from a fact of consciousness into an object with which it is brought in 
contact by physical resistance or the action &f the senses. In the first 
instance it turns a fact into an idea, and in the other it turns an idea into 
a fact. 

x. That is, in the one case, the reason takes a fact of consciousness 
and from it forms an idea ; and, in the other case, it takes an idea of its 
own which it has formed from the facts of consciousness, and applies it 
to, and realizes it in, a fact brought before it by physical resistance or 
the action of the senses. 

y. Consciousness, in the one case, gives reason a fact ; and the reason, 
in the other case, gives consciousness a fact. 

z. And here it must be noted and insisted again, that, in knowing the 
facts of our subjective nature, the consciousness knows immediately and 
absolutely ; but in knowing the facts which come to it through the per- 
ception and reason, it knows only mediately and relatively. 

aa. And it must also be repeated, that the reason, in knowing ideas 
which it forms from the facts of consciousness, knows immediately and 
absolutely ; but in knowing the facts with which plrysical resistance 
and the action of the senses bring the reason in contact, it knows only 
mediately and relatively. 

bb. And we see, finally, that in order to begin to know at- all, we 
must first know facts absolutely, and, secondly, we must know ideas 
absolutely, — the former by the consciousness, and the latter by the 
reason ; that, in truth, it is impossible to know anything relatively until 
we first know something absolutely. 

cc. And, therefore, all our knowing must begin in facts not only, but 
in the subjective facts of the being and action of the mind, which the 
consciousness alone can give. 



THE INTELLECT. 315 



DIVISION II. 

ABSOLUTE KNOWING, OR THE NATURE AND ORIGIN 
OF IDEAS AND OF THE SENSE. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE CONSCIOUSNESS GIVES ORIGINAL FACTS, AND BEGINS 
KNOWLEDGE. 



SECT. I. CERTAIN FOUNDATION FACTS, SHOWING THAT THE MIND 
ITSELF, WITH ITS BEING, FACULTIES, AND ACTION, AFFORDS 
THE MATERIAL OUT OF WHICH IDEAS ARE FORMED. 

a. We have already given a brief outline of the Intellect as a whole. 
We now take up each faculty of the Intellect for a more full exhibition 
of its nature and functions. 

b. And as we can best know what a faculty is by ascertaining what 
it does, we will present the operations of each faculty of the Intellect in 
the work of knowing, viz. : — 

c. The Consciousness, 'and the Reason, with its appendage of the 
Sense, and also, in conclusion, the Conscience, though that is* not a 
faculty of the simple Intellect proper. 

d. None of the faculties of the Intellect proper have as yet done any- 
thing in their own especial sphere of knowing, save the Consciousness, 
which has performed a part of its functions only, and that as a forma- 
tive principle in the construction of the Will. Its work as a knowing 
faculty, and its work in connection with the Reason, will next be requisite 
before the Reason can begin its own work. 

e. After that, the Reason will begin its work by the formation of 
ideas from the facts of consciousness. Then the office of the Sense will 
be requisite to introduce the Reason to the external world. After 
which the Reason will pursue its operations until it arrives at the 
domain of the Conscience. 



316 AUTOLOGY. 

f. Then the office of the Conscience will be given as the last and 
highest faculty. And then the Reason will resume and complete its 
whole and last work in the completed Personality. 

g. The faculty with which all knowing begins is the Consciousness. 
This faculty has appeared heretofore rather as a formative principle than 
as a knowing faculty. In the latter capacity it now more particularly 
begins its operations in furnishing the facts of the being, faculties, and 
knowing of the mind, out of which the Reason forms ideas. 

h. And so essential is it to begin the search after the material of 
ideas intelligently, that it will be necessary to recall certain facts of the 
mind's being, faculties, and knowing, which we have before noted, but 
which must here come particularly into view : so important are they in 
their nature and discriminations to the operations of the Consciousness 
in beginning our knowing that we here set them forth at length. 

I. The mind is made up of involuntary forces as well as of free 
•powers. 

II. The self-assertion of Consciousness. The Consciousness affirms 
the self, the whole self, as an entirety and a unity, wholly known and 
luminous, as the essence of the mind. 

III. The knowing of the Consciousness is immediate and absolute, 
and not mediate and relative. 

IV. The difference between Self, Will, and Person. 

V. Another view. 1. Self has two elements. 2. Will has five ele- 
ments. 3. The Person has substance and qualities. These points we 
now take up and restate in full. 

I. a. That the mind is made up of involuntary forces as well as vol- 
untary power, we have already seen. 

b. That all action and all intelligence must begin in involuntary and 
necessary forces, and that liberty itself consists in the subjugation of 
involuntary action to the law of the self-consciousness, as self-end of 
action, we have already seen. 

c. Therefore, in giving the facts of Consciousness, we must, if we 
would enumerate them all, give .both free and necessary facts, as both 
enter into the constitution of the mind, and both are held within the 
grasp of Consciousness and reported by it. 

d. Without necessary action there can be no free action. The mind 
must first be a necessary and involuntary force before it can be a free 
force, though freedom is latent in its nature and elements ; and so long as 
it exists, and to the end of its existence, every faculty, save the Will, 
is involuntary and necessary in its action. 



THE INTELLECT. SIT 

e. The Will is made up of involuntary elements, and is itself involun- 
tary and necessary in the working of the elements that constitute it, but 
free, as a chooser after it is constituted and all the elements are gathered 
into a complete whole ; while the Affections, the Intellect, and the 
Conscience, are always involuntary in their action. 

/. Man is, therefore, nature as well as supernatural, force as well as 
spirit, animal as well as rational, involuntary as well as free ; and Con- 
sciousness, in reporting fully, must give all these classes of facts : — 
(1.) Facts of mere nature, for man is nature ; (2.) and facts of spirit, 
for man is spirit; (3.) and facts of necessity, lor man has necessary 
activities ; (4.) and facts of freedom, for man is free. 

g. And these facts will be the basis of the several classes of categories 
formed upon them. 

U. The self-assertion of Consciousness. 

1st. a. We have seen that the Consciousness gives itself ; that is, 
1. it is conscious that it is conscious ; 2. then it gives the essential 
activity ; 3. and then, by coalescing with it, it gives self-consciousness ; 
i. e., essential intelligence, taking cognizance of the essential activity, 
gives the consciousness of a self, and thus that a self is. 

b. The Consciousness is active, and the activity is conscious by 
means of their coalescence, aud thus gives a self-affirmed self, of which 
they are both elements, i. e., they are each both substance and quality ; 
for each inheres in the other. 

c. This is the character of elements as distinguished from qualities ; 
viz., they inhere in each other so that essential intelligence and activity 
are mutually inherent, and coalesce in forming one self. 

2d. The second fact here given by the self-assertion of Consciousness 
is 'the self as an entirety, i. e., one whole complete self. 

a. If, therefore, there is anything in the self so affirmed by Conscious- 
ness, which is not self, or which the Consciousness does not reach when 
it affirms, then is Consciousness false. 

b. In other words, if there is anything in the self below the level, or 
above the reach of Consciousness, which is yet a part of the self, and 
which Consciousness yet affirms nothing of, while it affirms a self con- 
scious of itself, then it asserts a falsehood in the very act of proclaiming 
the self self-conscious. 

c. For, if there is anything in the self which the Consciousness does 
not reach, then the Consciousness falsifies in affirming that the self is 
self-conscious, or conscious of itself. 

d. But if the Consciousness does not penetrate to the depths of the 
essence of the self, then there is something in the self which it does not 
reach, while it affirms that it does reach it ; and then it affirms falsely. 



318 AUTOLOGY. 

e. For a self is not a part of self, but the whole of self, and the 
Consciousness affirms a whole self. 

/. If, then, the Consciousness only embraces the qualities of the self, 
and not its essence, while it affirms that it cognizes a whole self, then it 
is guilty of falsehood. • 

g. And, if it is false in one case, then it may be false in all. 

h. But Consciousness is not false ; it is ever true, and it does affirm 
and claim to give, and does give, a complete self, and, therefore, it 
does give the essence of self. 

i. And, therefore, the essence of self is a known essence, and not an 
unknown one. 

j. If essential activity were alone the essence of self, then it would 
be unknown. 

k. But Consciousness is also an element of self, and it permeates and 
infuses itself all through it from centre to circumference. 

I. Consciousness is an element of the mind co-ordinate with essential 
activity, and it inheres in the essential activity as the activity inheres in 
it, and they both combine and blend to form the self. 

m. They are .both substance and qualities to each other, and mutually 
inherent, and interpenetrant, and comprehensive. 

n. Hence the essence of self is a luminous, and not a dark centre ; a 
known, and not an unknown essence. 

o. Consciousness cannot in its own nature go out in a dark essence, 
but must carry with it its own intelligence wherever it goes ; it is an 
essential and absolute intelligence, essentially self-seeing and self-affirm- 
ing, and hence it knows the self. 

p. The*essential intelligence and the essential activity are, by their 
nature, mutually substance and quality to each other, because they are 
elements ; for all elements inhere in each other, and, in this respect, dif- 
fer from qualities, for qualities inhere in a substance, but elements by 
mutual inherence form and constitute a substance, and in this case these 
elements constitute the Will, which is the substance or essence of the 
mind. 

III. The third fact of Consciousness here noted is, that the knowing 
of consciousness is direct, immediate, unconditioned, and absolute, and 
is not indirect, mediate, conditioned, and relative. 

a. It knows, not through another faculty, but directly and by itself. ' 

b. It neither uses an idea of the Beason nor a fact of, the senses, but 
cognizes directly, being its own fact, and having its own sense, and its 
own reason in itself, and seeing and knowing itself, as one concrete • 
faculty. 

c. The Consciousness is conscious that it is conscious ; its own con- 



THE INTELLECT. ' 319 

sciousness is the object of its consciousness ; it cannot therefore have 
mediate, but must have immediate knowledge. 

d. Nor is its knowing* here a distinguishing between two objects, that 
is, by what is called "plurality and difference." It discriminates no dif- 
ference, it notes no plurality, but simply and directly knows itself and 
its own knowing, being to itself the object of its own knowledge, and 
that as a unity uncontrasted with anything else. 

e: The Consciousness takes cognizance of its own consciousness and 
of its own activity ; the activity is conscious, and the consciousness is 
active; and this knowledge is direct and absolute knowledge; and com- 
bined they form one self, whose self-consciousness is at once direct and 
absolute. 

/. So when, again, the. self or individuality thus found is, as we have 
seen, Part I., recombined with the preceding elements and thus becomes 
the law of the activity of the self, — and when, again, this law is recom- 
bined with the activity, consciousness, and individuality, or self, and 
gives liberty, — still the knowing of all these processes and facts is by 
'direct and immediate consciousness, and is absolute knowing, and not 
relative knowing. 

g. And when the whole is recombined in one consciousness as a com- 
plete will, still, to the last, the knowing is direct, immediate, positive, 
and. absolute. 

h. And still further, when this will, thus complete, forms (by the 
combination, action, and reaction of the elements, activity, intelligence, 
individuality, law, and liberty, inhering each in the other, and all 
mutually substance and quality to each) one whole and indivisible will, 
as the essence or substance of the mind, and develops from itself and 
embraces in its own conscious grasp the Affections, and the Intellect, 
and the Conscience, as its own qualities and properties, completing the 
personality, — then still the knowing is direct and absolute, and not in- 
direct and relative.' 

IV. The fourth fact here to be noted is the difference between the 
self, the will, and the person, all of which are sometimes used inter- 
changeably. 

a. Self is the first result of the combination of essential activity 
and essential intelligence ; this gives a conscious self. 

b: This self is produced by involuntary forces, and is itself involun- 
tary, and the substance of mere animal or brute life. 

c. But when this self or individuality, which is produced by the com- 
bination of essential activity and essential intelligence, is again recom- 
bined with its elements, and becomes the law or end of their knowing 
and acting, then it produces a fourth element, viz., liberty ; for self, 



320 AUTOLOGY. 

acting for a known and intended end, i. c., being its own law, con- 
stitutes liberty. 

d. Then, when this fourth element is recombined with the preceding 
three, it produces will — free will — wh;ch is the substance of human 
life, or the mind. 

e. Now, will differs from self in that it has the two additional ele- 
ments of self-law and liberty. 

/. This free will thus constituted becomes the essence or substance 
of the mind by reason of the development from 'it of its two primordial 
elements, essential activity and essential intelligence, into qualities. 

g. As a self-conscious free will rising above nature and above self, 
the will is a complete and finished substance, having its own five ele- 
ments mutually inherent and complete. 

h. But when the will is thus complete and free, absolute in its con- 
sciousness and in its liberty, then, as a substance or essence of the 
mind, it puts forth qualities. 

i. Yet, as the substance, it, in the putting forth of qualities and the 
holding of them in inherence, is not a free, but a necessary force. • ' 

j. As a development of the essential activity, or on the side of the 
activity, though it must be composed, in some degree, of both activity 
and intelligence, it puts forth the quality of the Affections. 

h. But on the side of the essential intelligence, it puts forth as a 
quality the Intellect. 

I. These two elements, having become Reason and the Affections, 
combine to form and put forth the Conscience as the last and completing 
quality of the mind. The mind thus complete with will, affections, in- 
tellect, and conscience, constitutes the person. Will is more than self, 
person is more than will ; will includes self, person includes both will 
and self; the person enclosed in or blended with a human body becomes 
man. 

m. Now, these three, viz., the Affections, the Reason with the Sense, 
and the Conscience, are qualities inhering in the Will as the substance 
of the mind. 

n. They are not elements, because they do not inhere in each other 
as do the five elements of the Will ; but they inhere in the Will, not as 
will, but as substance of the mind, and are a development of its essential 
elements ; they inhere in the Will ; the Will does not inhere in them ; 
therefore they are qualities, and not elements. 

o. The Will is here a substance or essence, not by virtue of its 
freedom, but by reason of its involuntary forces, which, by the necessity 
of their own nature, put forth qualities after they have formed the Will, 
precisely as, before, they, by their own necessary action, developed and 
combined themselves in forming the Will. 



THE INTELLECT. 321 

V. a. It is true that this matter of the essence of the mind might be 
looked at as lying a little deeper. Yet it then would be the same ; to 
wit, essential force or activity is always and everywhere the nature of 
substance in the world of nature. 

b. All we know of such substances is, that they are, and must be, a 
blind force, holding qualities in inherence. 

c. But here, when this essential activity is joined by another force, 
viz., essential intelligence, and they combine in a conscious self, con- 
scious that it is conscious, then these elements give the substance, self, 
as a luminous, and not a dark, a knowing, and not an unknowing, sub- 
stance ; and it is none the less a substance or essence because the light 
of consciousness penetrates and reveals it. 

d. It is now a known substance. Consciousness is a force for hold- 
ing in inherence and for developing quality, as well as an illuminating 
and knowing power, so that it could be regarded as the substance of 
activity, or activity as the substance of it. 

e. Now, the essential activity thus penetrated by the essential intelli- 
gence, and the essential intelligence thus vitalized by the essential ac- 
tivity, form the self. Either might be regarded as the substance of the 
other, and of the self, or both ; but better that they should both be 
regarded as the elements of the self inhering in each other and blending 
in the one self. The self has simply these two elements, coeval and 
ccequal, chronologically and logically. 

f. This self might also be regarded as the substance of the Will, as 
the two developments of self, law and liberty, which added to self pro- 
duce Will, inhere in and spring from the self, and are recombined 
with its original elements to form themselves and the Will. This might 
so seem. 

g. But it must be remembered that law and liberty are recombined 
in each instance with the original whole, and inhere in each other insep- 
arably, and complete themselves, not by becoming and maturing a 
quality, but by recombination with the preceding elements, convolving 
each with each, and each, while distinguishable, mingling inseparably 
with the whole, forming one complete Will. 

h. This Will is itself substance and essence when complete, and it 
blossoms out, bears as fruit, never more to be combined with the original 
will or essence, the faculties of Affection, Intellect with Sense, and 
Conscience. 

i. These qualities remain distinct from each other, and do not recom- 
bine as -elements do, nor inhere in each other as elements do, but inhere 
in the Will as their substance. The elements of intelligence and activity 
are developed into these qualities ; the activity into affections, and the 
intelligence into reason, and both combined into conscience. 
41 



322 AUTOLOGY. 

j. As the Will was formed by combining' the two in the beginning 1 , so 
is the Conscience formed by combining the two in the completing of the 
person. 

k. 1. The Self has, therefore, only elements forming it, two in number. 

2. The Will, also, has only elements in its construction, five in number. 

3. The Person has qualities and substance in its construction. 

I. The Self is composed of two elements, activity and consciousness, 
and can have no qualities either before or after its construction, except 
as it is the substance of mere animal or brute nature, as we shall see. 

m. The Will is composed of five elements, viz., activity, intelligence, 
individuality or self, law, and liberty. It has not qualities, but like the 
self, simply mutually inhering elements in its construction ; but when 
constructed it becomes a concrete substance, unit, and essence, by the 
outbranching of its elements into qualities. 

n. This springing up of qualities from the centre of the Will is 
spontaneous and necessary. The essential activity and intelligence, 
having - , by their own involuntary and necessary action, produced the 
Will, by the same original force spring forth, the one into affections, 
and the other into intellect and sense, and both combined form the 
conscience ; thus givmg qualities to the Will as the substance of the 
mind, and completing the personality by giving, in addition to free will 
as substance, affection, reason, with sense and conscience inhering in it. 

o. We thus see the difference between self, will, and person, and 
how it is that self might be (erroneously) called the substance of the 
Will ; and the essential activity and the essential intelligence, the sub- 
stance of the self and of them both ; for they are the substance sub- 
stantissimns of the mind. 

p. But it is truer and more philosophical to call essential activity and 
essential intelligence, and their developments, elements, forming, first, 
self, and then the will, which will is alone the substance or essence of 
the mind, holding the qualities of affection, reason, with sense and con- 
science in inherence. 

After this explanation no confusion about these terms in their nature 
can arise. We may speak of will or self as the centre and substance 
of the mind without confusion, and also of their elements. 

SECT. II. HOW THE CONSCIOUSNESS FINDS AND GIVES THE ORIGI- 
NAL AND ONTOLOGICAL FACTS OUT OF WHICH THE REASON FORMS 
IDEAS. 

A. Preliminary Principles. 

a. The essential intelligence, or consciousness, as a formative princi- 
ple, has already been given in the elements of the Will. It now begins its 
work as a knowing faculty of the Intellect, styled the*Consciousness. 



THE INTELLECT. 323 

b. Having found that we begin to know by the Consciousness, we 
come now to the enumeration of those ontological facts which it gives, 
and which are our first knowledge, and upon which all subsequent 
thought arid knowledge depend. 

c. These facts are found in the person ; and, though they are of 
three distinct classes, and are, consequently, the basis of three distinct 
classes of categories, still they lie in the structure of the mind, not in 
the order of distinct classes, nor j r et promiscuously, but according to 
the structure of the mind itself, which is built of them, with each in 
such place as the framework of the mind demands. 

d. These facts will be found to belong to Personality, Animal life, 
and Inanimate nature. In the first are found all the facts of the second 
and third ; in the second, some of the facts of the first and all of the 
third ; while the third has only its own. 

e. Or, to change the order. The facts of nature are alone ultimate 
and universal, being found in all the forms of being and life — inani- 
mate, animal, and rational ; while the facts of animal life are peculiar 
to it, and superadded to the facts of inanimate nature ; and the facts 
of rational life are peculiar to it, and superadded to both the preceding 
classes of facts. 

f. A person has facts of being in common with all animate life and 
inanimate nature, and with those rational beings who are superhuman. 
It has less, probably, than superhuman beings, but more than animal 
life or inanimate nature. 

g. Personality is built upon the basis of mere nature and animal life, 
but is carried many stories higher than mere nature or animal life. 

h. We shall therefore find, in an exploration of the mind, facts of na- 
ture and animal life, and also the person's lofty structure rising out of 
mere nature and animal being, in the tall and noble stories of will, 
affection, intellect, and conscience, whose dome ascends even to the 
heavens. 

i. Let it not, however, be supposed that the higher facts of humanity 
are a mere development of the lower facts of nature. The spirit of 
man is all distinct from the mere life of animals, or the mere force of 
nature. 

j. All being in the universe is made up of spirit, life, and force ; and 
these three elements lie at the basis, and are the characteristics, of the 
three orders of being in the universe ; viz., men, brutes, and inanimate 
nature. Man is characterized by spirit, brutes by life, and inanimate 
nature by force. 

h. Human nature has in it all three — spirit, life, and force; brutes 
have life and force ; while inanimate nature has only force. Force 
alone is nature ;" force joined with life produced animals; while 



324 AUTOLOGY. 

spirit joined with life and force produces man. But spirit has in it, 
at the beginning, life and force ; life has in it force ; while force has 
only itself. 

(. Life is, consequently, no development of force, for force has noth- 
ing in it but force ; nor is spirit any development of life, for- life 
has in it nothing but force and life. It is absurd to expect to develop 
from anything that which is not in it in the beginning. The " develop- 
ment theory 7 ' is a reversal of nature and a contradiction in itself; for 
nothing can be developed out of a thing, which was not, in its essence, 
in that thing beforehand. 

m. We must, therefore, begin with the highest, and not with the 
lowest form of being. Chronologically,, we may observe, analyze, and 
learn the universe by beginning with its simplest forms ; but, logically 
and ontologically, the smaller proceeds from the greater, and not the 
greater from the smaller. "The child is the father of the man 7 ' only 
because the germ and essence of the man is in the child already as a 
germ and an essential spirit. But it is not true that a lizard or a tad- 
pole, an ape or a gorilla, is the father of man, in any sense ; for while 
the child has the elements and the essence of the man in its nature, 
these lowe'r animals have them not ; and therefore man can never be . 
developed from them. 

n. Spirit, be it then emphasized, is the ultimate being : life and force 
are properties in it: all combined make one entity, one spirit, insepa- 
rable. There is no spirit without life and force : they all constitute 
one identical being. But life without spirit is mere animal being, hav- 
ing in it the two elements of life and force ; and force without life is 
simple nature, having only the one element. 

o. Being, therefore, begins at the highest and completest form, and 
descends to the lowest. It begins in spirit, and descends to life, and 
then goes down to mere force, which is its lowest generic form. It 
must, however, never be forgotten that man, though spirit and all dis- 
tinct from mere brute life and inanimate nature, has, nevertheless, 
in him life and force as well as spirit; i. e., spirit has life and force 
in it. 

p. It must not be forgotten that man has a nature as well as a will ; 
a being as well as a person ; and that, while free will, reason, and con- 
science make him man, and ally him to God, still the larger part of him 
is a blind, irrational, and unethical force, which force is to be ruled, 
enlightened, and ethicized by the free will, the pure reason, and the 
divine Conscience. 

q. The great errors of mental philosophy and of theology arise pre- 
cisely here, — by regarding man as all nature and mere being, on the 
one hand, or all will, on the other ; or by some monstrous and mis- 



THE INTELLECT. 325 

chievous mixing of the two in a way to confuse and dishearten the 
mind with perplexity, and to degrade humanity. 

r. We will keep nature and will, or mere being and personalit}-, apart. 
Nature is both inanimate and animate ; it contains both animal life and 
what is called dead matter. As in all past discussions in this work, so 
here, man's voluntary and involuntary powers are kept distinct. 

s. And while we keep them distinct, we will yet show how they form 
but one complete whole ; for without involuntary forces there would be 
no free forces, as without spontaneous and absolute knowing there 
could be no relative knowing. Necessary force is essential to free will 
and free force, just as spontaneous knowing is essential to deliberative 
and interpretative knowing. 

t. The facts of mere being underlie the facts of personality, and must 
first be before a person can be. The necessary forces and laws of 
nature must be, before the free forces of the person can be, and the 
spontaneous and necessary knowing must precede relative knowing. 

u. We come, then, to the facts of consciousness, and we shall take 
them up precisely in the order in which we find them, — rather, we shall 
first shake them all out of the bag of consciousness, and afterwards 
separate them into the classes to which they belong. 

v. The Consciousness begins its knowing, and all knowing, by the 
twofold, yet indivisible and identical affirmations, " I am conscious," 
and, " I am conscious that I am conscious;" thus asserting its own 
being and its own knowing, or self and self-seeing, or self-consciousness, 
in the first instance. 

w. The Consciousness is conscious, and conscious that it is con- 
scious ; knows, and knows its knowing ; sees, and sees its seeing ; and 
thus affirms its own existence and its own knowing, as first facts, and 
the first materials out of which the Reason forms all its original ideas. 

x. These two original, primary, and generic facts are alike first in 
the nature of being, and first in the affirmations of the Consciousness ; 
and from these the Reason, as we shall see, forms the great and funda- 
mental ideas of being and knowing, which lie at the foundation of all 
being and knowing. 

y. And this brings us back to the analysis of being and knowing 
already given in the formation of the Will, in Part I. We there found, 
on a close analysis, that they had each two irreducible elements, viz., 
essential activity, or life, and essential intelligence, or consciousness ; 
and that these two were virtually one, — the activity, or life, being con- 
scious, or intelligent, and the consciousness being active, or alive ; 
and that they both combined in forming the one self, as an indivisible 
unit. 

z. We found also that these two original and primordial elements, 



326 ■ AUTOLOGY. 

essential activity, or life, and essential intelligence, or consciousness, by 
combination and development, produced three other elements, making 
five in all ; all of which, in their combination, produce the Will, which 
will was the centre and essence of the mind ; as follows : — 

aa. Essential activity and essential intelligence, combined with 
essential self, gave essential self-law, as a fourth element ; and then the 
combination of these four gave us liberty, as a fifth element. 

bb. And, lastly, the recombination of all these five, as distinct ele- 
ments, gave us the completed Will, which was the essence and centre 
of the mind. 

cc. We there found that from this Will as the essence, centre, and 
substance of the mind, all the faculties, as the Affections, the Intellect, 
and the Conscience, spring out as so many properties, and inhere in it 
as so many qualities in their essence or substance ; and that these 
faculties as a whole, viz., the Will, the Affections, the Intellect, and the 
Conscience, constitute the personality of a rational soul, and, when 
clothed in an earthly body, become the human being, man, comprising a 
complete humanity. 

del. Now, it is by analyzing this human being, man, and tracing the 
constituents of his rational soul, as above, back to their original, primor- 
dial, and irreducible elements, and finding them as they lie in conscious- 
ness, that we shall be able to give those first facts, upon which and of 
which the Reason forms its original, necessary, and universal ideas. 

ee. We start, then, with the first affirmations of the Consciousness, 
viz., " I am conscious," and, " I am conscious that I am conscious," 
giving us the two great facts of being and knowing. These facts are 
the two lofty pillars of the Golden Gate of the Divine Temple of the 
soul, by which we enter, and explore its deep chambers and hidden 
treasures of facts and ideas. 

ff. We pass in, and, by a direct passage, descend to the deep and 
solemn centre, where they are seen to be in their primitive state — the 
two primordial and irreducible elements of essential activity, or life, and 
essential intelligence, or consciousness, which are the last analysis of the 
mind into being and knowing, as shown in Part I. 

gg. Here, then, we begin in the discovery and accumulation of facts ; 
and, following up the steps of developing being, as already given, we 
shall find the original facts out of which the Reason forms all its original, 
necessary, and universal ideas. 

B. The Consciousness does the Actual Work of finding First Facts. 

1. a. The first fact here noted, which the Consciousness gives, is 
that of essential activity, or life. 

b. From this first fact the Reason forms its idea of life, and of all liv- 



THE INTELLECT. 327 

ing things as opposed to inertia, and what is called dead matter, and 
death itself. 

2. a. The second fact noted, which the Consciousness gives, is that 
of essential intelligence, or consciousness, from which the Reason forms 
its idea of intelligence, as opposed to mere unintelligent being or nature. 

b. The order of nature and of time may not here accord with each 
other. Obviously, life is before intelligence, and the fact of life would 
seem to be the first thing known by the intelligence ; yet chronologi- 
cally essential intelligence would seem to come first into consciousness ; 
the two are, however, inseparable. Essential activity, or life, has intel- 
ligence in it ; the one cannot be without the other ; the order is not 
material. As two living elements, they give us the two leading facts of 
our being — the fact of life and the fact of intelligence; and these, as 
we shall see in the next chapter, are the facts upon which the Reason 
forms the idea of life and the idea of knowing. 

3. a. The third fact noted, which the Consciousness gives us, is the self, 
the self-conscious self, and self-active self, or living being, produced by 
the combination of the two primordial elements of essential activity and 
essential intelligence. 

b. This self is the first fact of concrete being which the Consciousness 
gives, and which carries with it many other first facts, involved in its 
production and being, which we shall bring out in due time. Essential 
activity, which is the first strand of our being given by the Conscious- 
ness, is itself, as we have seen, not a single, but 'a braided and two- 
corded strand, having in it both essential intelligence and essential 
activity ; and essential intelligence, which is the second strand of our 
being given by the Consciousness, is also a two-corded strand, composed 
of essential activity arid essential intelligence. It is thus manifest that 
these elements are the last analysis possible. Self may be decomposed 
into these two elements ; but when we consider either of these two, they 
simply decompose themselves into each other. Hence they are, sever- 
ally, the last analysis of the human mind, and the first affirmation of the 
Consciousness. 

4. a. The fourth fact noted as given by the Consciousness is that of 
essential self-law. 

b. This element is produced by the recombination of the essential 
self as a distinct and third element with the two preceding original 
elements, essential activity and essential intelligence. This combina- 
tion gives the experience in consciousness of the fourth element, essen- 
tial self-law, or self-end, as the end of action. 

5. a. The fifth fact observed given by the Consciousness is that of 
liberty. 

b. The fact of liberty is produced in the Consciousness by the recom- 



328 AUTOLOGY. 

bination of self-law, above given, with the three elements which precede 
it. The result of the combination of the four, activity, intelligence, 
self, and self-law, is the conscious fact of liberty. 

6. a. The sixth fact noted as given by the Consciousness is that of 
will — free will. 

b. The Will is the natural outgrowth of the combinations of these 
several elements, one with another, beginning with the two simplest, 
and working it up to the great result; to wit, essential activity and 
essential intelligence combine and produce essential self, or individuality. 
This individuality, combined with the preceding elements, becomes self- 
law, which, recombined with the preceding, produces liberty ; this, re- 
combined with the preceding, produces free will. 

1. a. The seventh fact which we here mention as given by the Con- 
sciousness is that of being. 

b. This fact is produced by the same combination of the essential 
activity and the essential intelligence that produces self. In the con- 
sciousness of a self is found the first knowledge of being ; and it is 
here given as a simple, primary fact. 

c. It is true, that in the experience, " I am conscious," being is 
affirmed, in the first instance ; yet it is also true, that in the very ex- 
perience, "I am conscious," there is first the consciousness of activity, 
or of life : and it is also true, that there is the consciousness of being 
conscious; so that the phrase, " I am conscious," is the expression of a 
complex and not of a simple experience. 

d. It embodies the experience of essential activity and of essential 
intelligence. In the phrase, " I am conscious," the " I " is the affirma- 
tion of activity, or life, and the "am conscious" is the affirmation, " I 
am conscious that I am conscious ; *' so that the whole experience em- 
bodied in the affirmation, " I am conscious," is this, viz., I am alive and 
essentially active, and I know ; i. e., I am conscious that I am conscious 
of being so alive, active, and conscious. 

e. Hence we give this union of activity and consciousness as the 
first affirmation of being. The affirmation of life, or activity, involves 
the affirmation of consciousness ; and the affirmation of consciousness 
implies that of activity and life : both are essential to the affirmation of 
either, and, consequently, to the affirmation of being. 

8. a. .The eighth fact noted is that of diversity. 

b. This fact is found in the first movement of essential activity and 
essential intelligence, by which they each stand distinct and known in 
the consciousness. They are there and then distinguished from each 
other, and individually affirmed. 

9. a. The ninth fact is that of identity ; and this is furnished by the 
same act of consciousness that gives us diversity. 



TIIE INTELLECT. 329 

b. For the consciousness affirms essential activity and essential intel- 
ligence as the two distinct, original, and irreducible elements of the 
mind, and in affirming the diversity of either, affirms the identity of 
the other, and the individuality of both. It will be observed that in 
affirming being, diversity, and . identity, the Consciousness affirms, 
directly and absolutely, reality ; i. e., actual being, and not the mere 
impression of being ; for the knower and the known are identical. It 
will also be observed that the Consciousness which affirms diversity 
and identity distinguishes real things which have an actual existence. 

10. a. The tenth fact afforded by the Consciousness is that of resem- 
blance. 

b. It is affirmed by the Consciousness, that all the elements are alike 
mutually inherent, and components of the olie will. . They are diverse 
from each other, but their diversity gives them individuality, and thereby 
are they identical in themselves with themselves, while they have a 
common resemblance as elements in the one will. 

c. These facts may all be found later in the mind's development and 
upbuilding ) viz., the Will, when complete, gives us, in its existence as 
substance and qualities of the mind, the facts of being, of diversity, of 
identit3 r , and of resemblance ; but they here make their first appearance. 

d. Thus do we see that the universal and inevitable categories of the 
mind — known as formal categories, because they are found necessarily 
in all and every possible act and object of knowing — are actual and 
real, and exist in the very first elements of being. 

11. a. The eleventh fact here named, which the Consciousness gives, 
is that of cause. This fact is produced by the union of the two pri- 
mordial elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, creating 
the self. These forces are involuntary, and work together as mere in- 
voluntary forces in the production of the self. 

b. A cause is any force working out a result. These two elements 
energize by their own spontaneous forces, in producing self; and this is 
necessary cause. 

c. This necessary cause is entirely distinct from the free force and 
activity of the Will ; the former is natural cause, the latter is free cause. 
The forces of essential activity and intelligence that produce the Will 
are necessary, and must never be confounded with the Will itself, which 
is a free force produced by them. 

d. The Will, complete in its constituents of essential activity, intel- 
ligence, individuality, law, and liberty, is a free cause, having its own 
efficiency and determination in itself. It is distinct, peculiar, positive, 
and personal ; and this cause is ever going forth in free choices as its 
effects ; and thus we have ever the facts of events beginning in free 
will, out of nature, yet appearing in nature. 

42 



330 AUTOLOGY. 

e. The causes in nature are entirely different from it, being imper- 
sonal and necessary activity and force going out in necessary results ; 
and, though Consciousness is a part of free force, and is blended with it 
in the mind, and reveals it, and adds self-consciousness to it, yet it re- 
mains still a necessary force. 

f. But when the self, which is the result of the two forces of activity 
and consciousness, becomes again, by combination with them, the law 
of that conscious activity, or self, then it gives liberty ; and when this 
liberty is combined with the preceding elements, then the self becomes 
a free will, and from a necessary and impersonal cause becomes a free 
and personal cause (which see below). 

g. The essential activity and the essential intelligence are not the 
Will, but are constituents of it, and, as such, are necessary and im- 
personal forces ever going forth in necessary and involuntary life and 
action, forming first the self, and then, by further development, the 
Will ; and then, branching into affections and intellect, and lastly, 
recombining in the conscience, they complete the whole mind. 

h. Now, these forces, necessary and impersonal, combining to form 
the self, — these are the first facts of consciousness, and they give the 
fact of cause — natural, involuntary, impersonal, and necessary cause. 

12. The twelfth fact here mentioned, which the Consciousness gives, 
is that of effect; i. e., the self produced is the effect of the causes 
which produce it. 

13. a. The thirteenth fact here observed is the dynamical connection 
or relation between cause and effect. 

b. This fact stands distinctly in the embrace of the Consciousness. 
While the Consciousness gives the facts of cause and effect, it gives 
also the relation between them ; and this relation is dynamical, and liv- 
ing, and known by the Consciousness. 

c. That this relation is vita*l and dynamical is certain ; for in the case 
of free will, the Consciousness knows the relation between choice and 
its object ; that is, between free cause and free effect, as intended, free, 
and voluntary. And in the case of the essential activity and intelli- 
gence, the Consciousness knows the relation as involuntary and neces- 
sary — -as of a force producing results ; yet, in both cases, it knows the 
relation to be both vital and dynamical. 

d. The Consciousness holds nothing stronger than this fact. The 
two elements, activity and intelligence, energize ; that energizing is 
their nature and the fact of their being. They produce, by that ener- 
gizing, the self and the elements as causes. Their causing or uniting in 
an effect, and the effect, are all alike marked, known, and held by the 
Consciousness. Thus the dynamical connection of cause and effect is 
a fact of Consciousness. 



THE INTELLECT. 331 

14. a. The fourteenth fact given by the Consciousness is" that of the 
unity and identity' of cause and effect. This is especially true of ne- 
cessary causes. The effect is simply the converse of the cause ; both 
are one. The effect is the manifestation of the cause, and the cause is 
the nature and life of the effect. It is an identity of essence and na- 
ture, and not of form. 

b. So also in free cause, the effect, though contingent as an event, is 
yet, as an effect, necessarily the embodiment of the design and intent 
of the free cause, and is, in this essential (and the only essential) re- 
spect, identical with its cause, manifesting its nature, life, design, free- 
dom, and intelligence. 

15. The fifteenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of motion. 
Motion is nearly identical with activity. It differs from it, if at all, 
only in this — that it implies progress as well as simple activity. Mo- 
tion results from the combination of the essential activity and the essen- 
tial intelligence, when these produce, necessarily, the elements that 
compose the Will ; and, again, when they produce the qualities that in- 
here in the Will as substance. 

16. The sixteenth fact noted is that of number. This is produced by 
the successive combinations of the two primordial elements, essential 
activity and essential intelligence, in the formation of the other elements 
of the "Will. 

17. a. The seventeenth fact which we record as given is that of 
time. This also is produced by the successive combinations of the 
two original elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, in 
developing the other elements, and in them as causes, passing into the 
effect of self and will. Those successive consciousnesses give the facts 
alike of cause, number, and time. 

b. Consciousness, by giving the successive facts that lie within itself 
thus far, and especially by giving the original and primary facts of essen- 
tial activity and essential intelligence, working together as cause, pro- 
ducing self as an effect, gives them by succession ; and successive acts 
are a succession of events, and these events are each separated from 
the others by time, and all are included in successive times. 

c. As space is the relation between objects, so time is the relation 
between events. Each space of time is given as a fact in giving the 
facts between which they form a relation. Consciousness also gives us 
as a fact the relation between an event and time. The fact of an event 
is given, and the fact of time, and thus the fact of a relation between 
them. 

d. Time is created with the event which it holds ; it is its beginning 
and its end, separating it from the something or the nothing which goes 
before, and from the something or the nothing which comes after it, and 



532 AUTOLOGY. 

mclosing all the somethings that precede or follow it ; it is thus distin- 
guishable into parts, yet is but one whole. 

e. Time is thus a something created out of nothing ; for nothing goes 
jefore it, and nothing comes after it — rather, time is an actuality 
created where, before, was only the negative possibility. Time is 
succession produced by a positive force, where before was only the neg- 
itive possibility of its existence. .(See further in the next chapter ) 

18. a. The eighteenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of the 
mbstance, or essence. The Will is the substance of the mind. The 
tVill is formed by the combination of the two primordial elements of 
essential activity and essential intelligence first into a self, then self-law, 
;hen libert}', and, lastly, into Will. 

b. A substance, or essence, is made up of elements which inhere in 
;ach other by action and reaction, as we have seen, and fully develop , 
md mature themselves in one complete whole. Now, this whole is the 
substance of the mind, as already shown by the testimony of the Con- 
sciousness, which claims it as such. 

c. From this substance, when it is a complete will, there spring 
brth qualities. These qualities arise out of its nature, as all qualities 
nust. The Will, as substance of the mind, is not free, but holds its 
qualities in an involuntary and necessary inherence. 

19. a. The nineteenth fact here observed is that of qualities. Quality 
s the complement and correlative of &ubstance, the evidence of its nature, 
md only another form of its existence. 

b. They are produced by the two primordial elements of essential 
ictivity and essential intelligence, which, after they have completed the 
kVill as substance, still work with an incompleted life, and break over, 
md come out, first, with more activity than intelligence, as Affections ;. 
md, secondly, with more of intelligence than activity, as Intellect ; and 
hen, thirdly, with a recombination of themselves and their products, as 
iffections and will, they combine and rise over all as Conscience. Thus 
lave we the fact of quality : for these qualities inhere in the Will as their 
substance. 

20. a. The twentieth fact which we mention is that of the Affections, 
ts the first quality of the substance will. 

b. Out of the completed Will as essence and substance of the mind, 
spring from the side of its essential activity rather than its essential in- 
elligence, though as a whole from both, the affections as qualities, 
diey arise involuntarily out of this original and primordial element of the 
nind. They are a new and peculiar development of it after the Will is 
brmed and complete as a substance. 

21. a. The twenty-first fact is that of the intellect, as a quality of the 
substance will, containing Consciousness and the Reason with the Sense 



THE INTELLECT. 333 

b. This quality springs rather from the essential intelligence than the 
essential activity, bat is a combination of them both. 

22. a. The twenty-second fact is that of the Conscience as a quality. 

b. This is the third and last quality of the mind. It springs out of 
the two primordial elements of the Will, essential activity and essential 
intelligence, after they have combined to produce essential self, essential 
self-law, essential liberty, and essential will. These elements complete 
the Will, and give it both proprietorship and accountability ; and from 
such a Will, having these elements as the substance of the mind" springs 
forth-the quality of the Conscience. 

c. The qualities all combine, i. e., Affections, Intellect, and Conscience, 
with the Will, in which they inhere as their substance, to make up the 
whole mind or personality. 

d. They spring out of the Will, the substance of the person, just as 
qualities spring out of any other substance in nature. Precisely as all 
material substances hold their qualities in inherence, so does the Will, as 
substance of the mind or person, hold the qualities of the person in in- 
herence. The Will is not the mind, but the substance of the mind ; 
these qualities are not qualities of the Will simply, but of the person. 

e. The Will acts here simply as a necessary force, just as all other 
substances in nature everywhere' do. 

f. The affections, intellect, and conscience are not qualities of the 
Will as will, but as the substance of the mind. The Will has activity, 
intelligence, individuality, law, and liberty, as elements constituting its 
existence as a will and a substance. 

g. The elements inhere, not in a substance, but in each other. But 
this substance being complete, then it puts forth qualities, not as will, 
but as the substance of the mind ; which qualities inhere in it, and not in 
each other, and grow out of its very nature and centre. Now, as such 
substance, it acts involuntarily, and as a necessary force. 

h. The Consciousness gives us this fact; viz., the Will as the con- 
scious substance of the mind ; the Will, free in its own legitimate acts 
as a will ; but in its relations to the qualities of the mind, as substance 
of the mind, not free, but only a necessary force. 

i. This fact, then, stands revealed in consciousness ; viz., the personal- 
ity as substance and quality. While substance is the essential 'and central 
force of a thing, quality is the development of that force, and shows 
what it is ; if substance is the root, qualities are the blossom and fruit. 

j. In this way affections, intellect, with the sense and conscience, 
spring out of the nature and life force of the Will, not as will, but as 
essence and substance of the mind or person. They are not qualities of 
the Will, but of the mind or person, of which will is the substance. 

k. And as the elements of the Will are all dynamical forces, or pro- 



334 AUTOLOGY. 

ceed from the same forces, and by the exertion of the same powers, so 
are the qualities of the substance of the mind, not accidental, extraneous, 
or mechanical, but dynamical, being the outworking of the essential 
forces of the mind. 

23. The twenty-third fact is that of the vital and dynamical connec- 
tion and relation between substance and'quality. As the substance self 
is a living self, and the qualities are living, so is the connection between 
them a living and dynamical relation, and as distinctly in the grasp of 
consciousness as are the substance and qualities themselves. 

24. The twenty-fourth fact is that of the essential identity of sub- 
stance and quality, as of the same being and nature, each essential to 
the other, and always existing together. This identity of substance and 
quality is given by the same consciousness that gives their vital and 
dynamical connection. 

25. a. The twenty-fifth fact is that of action. and reaction. 

b. This fact is produced by the joint -and reciprocal action and reac- 
tion of these two original elements and forces of the soul, essential 
activity and essential intelligence, after they have ceased to develop 
themselves further, either as elements or qualities, but have completed 
the whole mind, yet still act and react as the simple and perpetual pulse- 
beat of life, maintaining the perpetual being of the living soul. 

c. The nature of this fact is seen in the working of the essential activity 
upon the essential intelligence, and the intelligence l'eacting upon it, 
both thus being active, and both intelligent, producing the self-conscious 
self as a distinct result. Now, so far it is cause and effect; but after the 
self is formed, then these two forming one whole as effect, self and object 
in time and space, each acting upon the other, and each appearing in turn 
and maintaining one life and being, in one space, by their action con- 
stitute the primal fact of action and reaction, as distinguished from cause 
and effect. They act as cause producing the self; but, as perpetual 
elements of the completed self, their action is not causal, but reciprocal. 
In this respect they are but the pulse and heart-beat of the principle of 
life, and act and react as the life-giving and life-sustaining force ; and 
this gives us the fact of action and reaction, as distinguished from cause 
and effect. This fiict appears again in the completed will, whose ele- 
ments act and react in producing and sustaining it. They act as causes 
in- producing the self and will ; but, when they are formed, they still act 
and react as their life. 

26. The twenty-sixth fact is that of the perpetual, vital, and dynam- 
ical identity of the living soul of man through all the periods of its exist- 
ence. This is produced by the fact of the perpetual action and reaction 
of the essential activity and the essential intelligence of the soul in one 
ceaseless succession and unending life. 



THE INTELLECT. 335 

27. The twenty-seventh fact which is noted as given by the Con- 
sciousness is that of perpetual reknowing, or the perpetual succession 
of consciousnesses. This perpetual reknowing is the essential fact of 
memory, and is produced by the vital, dynamical, and perpetual action 
and reaction of the essential activity and the essential intelligence, which 
remain and continue as the pulse-beat of life, after the development of 
the mind is complete. 

28. a. The twenty-eighth fact given by the Consciousness is that of 
free cause. While the essential activity and the essential intelligence 
are spontaneous and necessary in their action, the Will is free in its 
action, having its own activity, its own end of action, or law in itself. 
And when the Will, by developing itself into affections, and intellect, 
and conscience, completes itself into a personality, then is that person- 
ality a free cause. 

b. The Will, when complete in its elements of essential activity, in- 
telligence, individuality, law, and liberty, and when complete in all its 
qualities of affections, intellect, and conscience, becomes a free, rational, 
affectional, and ethical cause ; such a cause is a person, and such a per- 
son is a cause ; and this cause, it has been seen, and will be observed, is 
all distinct from involuntary cause. Involuntary cause, as we have 
seen, is a blind force, acting necessarily either as cause or as substance, 
as we have just seen in the preceding facts of consciousness ; but per- 
sonal cause is free, rational, affectional, and ethical ; knows its own ac- 
tion beforehand, chooses its own ends beforehand, loves its own interests 
beforehand, and judges its own deeds when done. This is personal cause, 
free cause, rational cause, affectional cause, ethical cause ; it is, in short, 
the human soul, armed with all its power to originate acts and intents, 
and to achieve them in actual deeds and results. This is the highest 
fact found by the Consciousness as constitutive of the being of man. 

29 a. The twenty-ninth fact noted, is that of final cause. This fact 
lies in the consciousness of a free cause. A free cause acts with design 
as well as liberty, and this consciousness of acting for an intended end 
in the exercise of liberty is a fact of intended action achieving its 
.design, or final cause. From this consciousness of his own nature, man 
forms the idea, and is capable of finding the fact of final cause in the 
works of nature and of man. 

b. But man, in the possession of his faculties of free will, of affec- 
tions, of intellect, and of conscience, is conscious that he himself is a 
fact of final cause. He knows that he was made for an end, and finds, 
wrought into his nature, the fact that he was made for holiness and 
virtue, and not for sin and depravity ; and here he has. in himself a fact 
of final cause. Hence he is prepared to discern, and believe in final 
cause wherever it exists. 



336 AUTOLOGY. 

30. a. The thirtieth fact which we here note as given by the Con- 
sciousness; is that of personality as the complete being of the soul. 
Personality is the essential chai'acteristic of man, or spirit, as opposed 
to mere animal life or mere force. In it, freedom is opposed to neces- 
sity ; reason to sensuous consciousness ; affection to animal desire ; and 
ethical judgments to mere selfial provisions. 

b. Man here rises above nature's forces, and above animal life. The 
elements of his nature demonstrate themselves as all distinct and 
superior, differing in kind and in quality, and not simply in development 
and degree, from them. 

c. The spirit of man here vindicates itself as having another essence 
than that of mere animal life and mere nature's force. It is built of an 
essential activity and an essential intelligence that will not stop in their 
development at the point of -mere nature's necessary force, nor yet at 
the point of the mere self of animal life ; but which, from their own in- 
ward nature, press on and develop the essential self-law and the essential 
self-liberty, which are in them, and produce them, and combine them all 
into a free will. 

d. Nor have these elements yet exhausted themselves, or worked out 
all their intrinsic powers ; they do not stop with the production of a free 
will ; but, with this as the substance of the mind, they put forth quali- 
ties ; first, the manifold classes of affections ; second, the intellect with 
its cognitive consciousness, reason, and sense ; third, the conscience, with 
all its ethical discernments and behests ; — thus completing the full 
development of the spirit of man in personality. 

e. Man is here not mere nature's force, nor animal life, but spirit and 
person, of the nature of God, and in the image of God. Man is not a 
higher development of nature's force, nor of animal life, but an essen- 
tially and generically different being, even a spirit. 

f. Nature's force is not spirit, never could be spirit by any combina- 
tion or development. Animal life is not spirit, never could be spirit by 
any degree of development, or any amount of cultivation, or any subtlety 
of combination. 

g. The spirit of man stands alone in this world, is sui generis, and 
alone capable of freedom, rationality, and ethical judgments and behests ; 
for man alone has the faculties of Free Will, Reason, and Conscience ; 
and these lie in the original elements of his nature, and are not the re- 
sult of development and culture. Personality is not simply above nature's 
forces and animal life, but essentially distinct from them both : man 
alone, is in the image of God. 

"31. a. The thirty-first fact noted is that of object, or quantity, or ob- 
jectivity as opposed to subjectivity. The completed personality, like 
the self and the will, which enter into its construction, is an object dis- 



THE INTELLECT. 337 

tinguished and complete, and is so held in consciousness, being brought 
up and developed from the first elements until its rounded whole is em- 
braced as a unit. 

b. We have seen that the essential activity and the essential intelli- 
gence, combining, produce individuality, or self. But this individuality, 
in order to be such, is, of necessity, distinguished from objectivity ; it 
is consciousness coming to the limits of the self, and thus circumscrib- 
ing and individualizing the self, — this is a first fact; viz., the self- 
affirmed self. • But the same fact of consciousness that gives the self as 
separated, gives, also, that from which it is separated ; viz., objectivity. 
This is the • second fact involved in the very act of individualizing or 
coming to the limits of the self. In giving self, we give not-self; it is 
separating myself from something outward. We cannot cognize the one 
without cognizing the other, any more than we can cognize a hill with- 
out cognizing the hollows that surround it, or a vale without cognizing 
the hills that surround it. 

c. Yet, it must not be concluded that there is no positive knowing 
of the self, without, or except in, discriminating it from the not-self; for 
even if there were no not-self to be discriminated from, or known, still 
the self would be essentially active and essentially conscious, and must, 
of necessity, know itself. It could not help knowing itself, if it existed 
at all, whether anything else existed, or not. But, in coming to the 
limit of itself, it demarcates objectivity, which is the not-me (even though 
the not-me is nothingness), and cognizes it as such. It first knows 
itself; it is self-conscious; then it knows the not-self. It is absurd to 
say that the fact of knowing consists merely in distinguishing the me 
and the not-me, when, of necessity, one thing must be known before 
another can be distinguished from it. Then, in giving thus the me 
and the not-me, the Consciousness gives us object, or quantity, and 
space. 

32. a. The thirty-second fact is that of whole and part. This arises 
out of the fact of object, or quantity, as a totality, and has three mo- 
ments in the consciousness; viz., — 1. One, or unit. 2. Two, or plu- 
rality. 3. The whole completed in a totality. 

b. The Consciousness experiences this as a fact in forming the Will 
by the successive development of its elements from the two original 
ones of activity and intelligence, and also again in the development of 
the affections, intellect, and conscience, as qualities, from the Will as 
their substance, and forming a completed personality as a whole. In 
each and all of these cases of development there is the experience of 
part and whole. 

33. The thirty-third fact here named as given by the Consciousness, 
is that of measure. This fact is given in giving the experience of part 

43 



338 AUTOLOGY. 

and whole, and in forming a whole by the addition or combination of 
parts. 

84. a. The thirty-fourth fact observed is that of space. Space is the 
consciousness of extension, and is given as occupied and filled by the 
self or object, and produced by the combination of the elements of 
essential activity and essential intelligence precisely in the same way, 
and at the same time, with the production of the objects that fill space. 
Space is just as large, and no larger, than the objects in space require, 
and it exists only where 'they exist. The object that exists carries 
with it the space that encloses it. 

b. This objectivity which the Consciousness touches in coming to the 
limits of the self, — this is the space which surrounds the self; or if the 
self actually touches some external object from which, of course, it is 
distinct, then space is that which encloses the individuality, and sepa- 
rates it from the external object ; for the very act of distinguishing the 
me and the not-me, is throwing a space between them ; separating is" 
spacing. We cannot cognize two hills without cognizing the vale be- 
tween them ; so we cannot cognize the me and the not-me without set- 
ting a space between them, and cognizing that space which separates 
them. Space, therefore, is the relation between two or more objects, 
always given as a fact in giving those objects. Consciousness also 
gives the relation between an object and space itself; that is, that it is 
in space. Space is, of course, objective to the self, though there may 
be nothing in it. 

c. Space encloses an object just as time encloses an event. All 
objects are, of necessity, in space, as all events are, of necessity, in 
time. Consciousness gives each by force of its own inherent knowing- 
ness, and, in giving them, gives that which encloses them ; so, in giving 
two objects, the act of distinguishing them is separating or spacing 

■ them," setting a space between them. And so, distinguishing events is 
setting a " space of time " between them ; it is timing th^m, or setting 
time between them. Thus when the working of the two causes, essen- 
tial activity and essential intelligence, produces the self as an effect, this 
effect is both an event and an object, and, therefore, is both in time and 
in space. 

d. And here it may be observed in passing, that mind occupies 
space as well as time ; for if two living men were instantly disembodied, 
their spirits would still be mutually objective, just as much as when 
embodied. The self-consciousness of the one would exclude the self-con- 
sciousness of the other ; they would be each mutually repellent of the 
other, and each would stand distinct in its own self-consciousness, in- 
dividualized and separated from all else, as . necessarily as when em- 
bodied. 



THE INTELLECT. 339 

e. Thus we have the fact of quantity ; for the me is enclosed in and, 
occupies space, and is separated by space from the not-me. The me at 
least has position in a space, like the matter of a material point, and like 
it, though having neither length, breadth, nor thickness, yet it has posi- 
tion ; and if position, of course impenetrability ; and if this, of course it 
occupies space, and is therefore a quantity. 

f. We have here given, then, the self as an object or a quantity 
occupying space, and this gives us these facts : first, the fact of quan- 
tity ; secondly, the fact of space ; thirdly, the relation of space to 
quantity ; i. e., quantity fills a space, it is separated from other quanti- 
ties by a space, and one whole space encloses them all. The space that 
an object fills is part of that object. The space that lies outside of 
that space which the object fills, and separates it from other objects, — 
that space is both objectivity and a separator from objectivity. The 
space which an object fills is rather subjective to the object, and is a 
part of it. The space that surrounds an object and separates it from 
other objects, or from nothing, — that is objective and separate from the 
object. 

g. The same is true of time, which events fill, and by which they are 
surrounded. Space must not here be confounded with nothingness, for 
space is a fact, and exists only as a fact, and where something occupies 
it. Where there is no object there is no space ; for space is created to 
hold the objects that fill it. Space is, therefore, not infinite, but finite ; 
and not necessary, but contingent, like the objects that fill it and are 
separated by it. 

h. Space is extension in nothingness, or in the negative possibility 
of extension. The object that fills space, and the space which it fills, 
are both created by the fiat of Jehovah. He is their positive, or effi- 
cient, possibility ; but the nothingness, in the midst of which space is 
created, and the object which fills it is created, is simply the negative 
possibility of extension. Space, therefore, is merely extension caused 
by a positive and efficient possibility in the midst of a negative possi- 
bility, or nothingness. 

35. a. The thirty-fifth fact noted as given by the Consciousness is that 
of impenetrability. Impenetrability is simply anj'thing of any kind or 
nature which is impenetrable ; i.e., which occupies space and time. 
That which prevents that any other thing should occupy the same space 
which it occupies at the same time, — that is impenetrable. 

b. It is of no moment what that something is which meets time and 
space, and forms the threefold junction with them. It ma}' be a force ; it 
may be a spirit; it. may be an animal ; it may be a stick, a stone, or 
a clod ; it is not important what it is ; it is something ; it is an entity 
of some sort, — spirit, life, force, or anything else (if else there be). 



340 AUTOLOGY. 

The essential fact is, that an entity meets time and space in one point or 
position, and thereby produces the fact of impenetrability ; i. e., the 
existence of an entity at the confluence of time and space, which entity, 
so existing, prevents the possibility of the existence of any other entity 
at that confluence or point of time and space — that is the nature of 
impenetrability ;.it is simply that in any entity at the point of the con- 
fluence of time and space which prevents that another entity should be 
there at the same moment. 

c. Manifestly, impenetrability is identical with simple being 1 , which 
is the first fact of consciousness. As being may be either force, life, or 
spirit, so may impenetrability be found in either. Let it not be sup- 
posed for a moment, that impenetrability belongs exclusively to nature, 
or material things, or matter, as it is called. All things are divided into 
spirit, life, and force. Matter is simply the form and body of each. 
Impenetrability belongs to life and force, and also to the soul, or spirit, 
of man ; and as no two forms of life can occupy the same place at the 
same instant of time, so no two forces can occupy the same place at the 
same time ; and as life and force cannot, so cannot two spirits occupy 
the same space at the same time ; and if spirits cannot, much less can 
spirit and life or force as separate entities occupy the same space at the 
same time ; and still less can spirit occupy space when any grosser 
forms of matter are there, except it be porous ; and then the real object 
remains impenetrable. Nor does spirit cease to be spirit because im- 
penetrable, any more than life ceases to be life, or force ce.ases to be 
force, because impenetrable. 

36. a. The thirty-sixth fact which we name as given by the Con- 
sciousness is that of spirit. We have already seen that all being may be 
divided into three kinds, and comprehended under three heads ; viz., 
human nature, or spirit ; brute nature, or life ; and inanimate nature, 
or mere force. Spirit is the first and the greatest, the most obvious and 
best known fact in the universe. It has in it, as we have seen, all the 
elements found in any other form of being. Spirit has life and force, 
while force has neither life nor spirit, and life has only force beside 
itself ( 

o. Spirit is essentially, and generically, and totally different from life 
and force. The difference is not that of degree, but of kind. Spirit 
has all that life and force have ; but they have not, and cannot have, 
what it has. 

c. While force ever remains mere force, as essential activity simply 
energizing and acting and stopping there, life has an activity and an 
intelligence that combine and rise to a self, a living self. And while 
the activity and the intelligence that are in the life stop at mere self, 
and can rise no higher, the activity and the intelligence that are in 



THE INTELLECT. 341 

spirit energize and develop, — first, a self; then self-law; then liberty; 
and then will, free will ; then, not stopping here, they rise still, develop- 
ing from the substance will, as qualities the affections, the intellect, 
and the conscience, into a full and complete person, which both has and 
takes on form, body, or matter. 

d. Now, though spirit has all the properties before given, all the 
thirty-five elements and facts now given, and yet more, — though it has 
force, life, self, will, person, cause, substance, objectivity, impenetrabil- 
ity, and matter, body, and form, — yet is spirit not material, not the same 
as mere force or mere life ; but it is spirit, exclusively spirit, distinct 
from what is called matter, or force, or mere animal life. 

e. Spirit, like life and force, has form, and, by virtue of impenetrabil- 
ity and objectivity, has body and matter as they have ; and, like them, 
it takes on material forms in the world, as we have seen ; but it does 
not for that reason cease to be spirit. Impenetrability does not belong 
exclusively to what is called matter, nor does the spirit cease to be spirit 
because it has impenetrability, any more than life ceases to be life, or 
force to be force, because they have impenetrability. 

f. Spirit is not nature, no part of nature ; but is purely, and gener- 
ically, and essentially, spirit ; and that everywhere and forever. Spirit 
is not matter ; spirit is not force ; spirit is not life ; spirit is not nature ; 
spirit is not body ; spirit is not form ; although it has all these, and all 
the thirty-five facts given, and more to come, yet spirit is none of them, 
but is generically different from all, and essentially sui generis in that 
spirit is spirit, and not anything else. 

31. a. The thirty-seventh fact is that of life, animal life. This 'fact 
is found at the point where essential activity and essential intelligence 
have produced the self. In mere life there is nothing but a self, and no 
further development as in spirit. 

b. Hence the essential activity and the essential intelligence, which 
are in mere life, are of a different uature from those that are in spirit ; 
for in spirit they develop themselves not only into self, but onward into 
self-law, liberty, will, intellect, and conscience. 

c. Life, on the other hand, rises above mere force. Mere force can 
never become life, any more than life can become spirit. In these re- 
spects life is seen to be generically different also from force. Force has 
only activity, while life has both activity and intelligence. And the 
activity which is in life must differ from that which is in force in that 
it coalesces with essential intelligence, while mere force never does. 

38. a. The thirty-eighth fact is that of force. 

b. Force is the essential activity as a working energy, not as life. 
The essential intelligence is also a force when viewed simply as a 
working energy, and not as intelligence. The fact of force, as well as 



342 AUT.OLOGY. 

that of spirit and life, is found in all the energizing of these two primor- 
dial elements in the production of self, will, and person. They may act 
simply as force, and as such they never combine and develop into any- 
thing higher. 

c. Precisely here is force generically and eternally different from life : 
force never can become life, as life never can become spirit. Force stops 
at activity ; life stops at self; spirit alone can become free will; and 
free will alone can develop from itself affections, intellect, and conscience, 
and become a person. 

39. a. The thirty-ninth fact is that of matter, body, or form. This 
subject properly belongs to the fourth division, which treats of Sense 
and Embodiment ; yet, as spirit, life, and force, do not belong exclusively 
to this world, and as they have all the facts hitherto given as belonging 
to them, the subject of body and form has a place here ; for if spirit, 
life, and force have all the facts heretofore given, then they must have 
an essential body, or form, before embodiment in flesh, or mere nature. 

b. Matter is body and form, and body and form are matter. The 
fact of body, or matter, is first given by the Consciousness in giving the 
entity of the self, will, or personality, as an object occupying space and 
having impenetrability. It is the consciousness of reality and bulk, or 
body (for matter is body); and it is impossible to regard the mind 
even as spirit without some form, or body, a body spiritual. This makes 
the notice of body, form, or matter, which are the same thing, not only 
proper, but necessary, here. 

c. Hence everywhere matter is the body or form which spirit, life, 
and -force take on, and by which they adapt themselyes to action and 
use. In this world, spirit has the human body ; life has the animal 
body ; force has the forms of mere inanimate nature. Matter covers 
spirit, life, and force, and is their body and object, having impenetrability, 
and occupying space and time. 

d. But the simple entity of spirit, life, and force, and, especially, the 
fully developed soul with all its elements, forming first a self, then a 
will, and then a complete personality, has already objectivity and im- 
penetrability, and thus essential body, form, or matter. Yet matter has 
its peculiarity in this : it is the form, screen, covering, and instrument 
of spirit, life, and force, which they take on, and change, and use, and 
lay off again. 

e. Human souls are sent into human bodies ; animal selves into animal 
bodies; force into nature's forms of mineral and vegetable. Man dies out 
of his earthy form, and goes into another world to take on another form ; 
for spirit, life, and force have ever a tendenc}'- to take on form, or matter. 

/. The full consciousness of body of course never comes to the spirit 
of man until he is embodied in flesh. Life takes on the brute body, 



THE INTELLECT. 313 

and force never appears naked, but is always embodying itself in na- 
ture's forms ; electricity has its conductors, the magnet its needle, and 
attraction its body in proportion to its strength ; yet they all have 
essential body in their own entity. 

40. The fortieth fact here noted as given by the Consciousness is that 
of the mode of existence. The fact of being is one thing ; being, con- 
sidered as substance, cause, quantity, and also as mode of being, is a 
different thing. The modes of being are threefold — actual, possible, 
and necessary. 

41 . The forty-first fact is the actual. The actual is given by the 
Consciousness in any fact of being. Whatsoever the Consciousness 
affirms as existing is actual ; as for example, the Consciousness affirms 
the existence of the ego and the free will. This is a fact of the actual. 
It must here be observed that this affirmation of the actual or real is 
absolute. The knower and the known are identical, and therefore the 
knowing is absolute, and the reality here affirmed is absolute knowledge. 

. 42. The fortj'-second fact given by the Consciousness is that of the 
possible. At first thought it would seem that nothing but the actual 
cculd be a subject of experience ; and, of course, that the possible, 
not being actual, could never be experienced. But possibility is of 
two sorts, positive or efficient, and negative. The positive or efficient 
possibility of anything is simply conscious power or liberty. Now, that 
we are conscious of liberty as an element of the Will, we have repeat- 
edly shown. Essential activity and essential intelligence, combined, 
produce essential self. Essential self, recombined with the two preced- 
ing, produces self-end, or self-law. And self-law, recombined with the 
three preceding elements, produces liberty. And all this is a matter of 
consciousness. Liberty, then, is in. the possession and grasp of con- 
sciousness. But liberty is the possibility of choice. Conscious liberty 
is. therefore, conscious possibility. Efficient possibility is here an ac- 
tuality in the possession of the Consciousness. 

43. The forty-third fact is that of the necessary mode of existence. 
The Consciousness finds the necessary in the working of all and any of 
the involuntary forces or faculties of the mind. All mental action and 
all life-forces, except the action of the Will, are necessary, and the Con- 
sciousness gives them as such. The mode of the action of those ele- 
ments is a necessary, and not a free mode of action. And thus the 
three modes of being are found as facts in the consciousness. 

44. a. The forty fourth fact is that of the true. The true is not. sim- 
ply the actual ; for that may be false ; but it is something that is true 
as well as actual ; and these elements are found to combine in the neces- 
sary. The true, then, is identical with the necessary ; i. e., it is that 
which is truthful, and which conforms to the nature of things. 



344 AUTOLOGY. 

b. But there is no such fact as the true apart from individual facts ; 
hence any necessary fact, as a necessary cause producing its effect, is 
a fact of the true. All facts given in article 43 are facts of the true. 

45. a. The forty-fifth fact is that of sublimity. The sublime is both 
an object and an emotion*' It rises out of the actual by carrying it up 
as to power and force, magnitude and vastness, as high as the nature 
of the actual will admit. 

b. This fact may be found as an emotion in the consciousness on oc- 
casion of any exercise of the will or the affections by which they rise 
into admiration or awe, self-devotion or courage, magnanimity or 
heroism. 

c. The fact of the sublime as an object as well as an emotion lies in 
the original structure and development of the soul, in which the ele- 
mental affections, beginning in desirefulness, and rising through trust- 
fulness, hopefulness, and cheerfulness, culminate in aspiringness, and 
then still ascend to reverentialness. 

d. In this original procession, augmentation, and structural upbuild- 
ing of the affections in their elemental state, we have the first fact and 
object, as well as emotion, of the sublime. This original fact repeats 
and perfects itself when the elemental affections develop and diversify 
themselves into all the successive orders of Determinate affections based 
upon them, as individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, and aesthetic 
affections, culminating and completing themselves in the religious affec- 
tions. 

e. The sublime lies not in the fact that we have emotions, nor in the 
fact of an evolved and completed soul-development, but in the one 
swelling and augmenting emotion, and the overtowering and ever up- 
rising structure of the soul. Thus we have the given fact of the sublime, 
both as an entity and an emotion, in the structure of the mind itself. 

46. a. The forty-sixth fact here named as given by the Conscious- 
ness is that of beauty. The beautiful is both an object and an emotion. 
As an object it is the proportional, symmetrical, and harmonious devel- 
opment of the form of the actual into the possible, to the highest 
degree of which the nature of the actual will admit. 

b. The beautiful is thus the complete and perfect as to form, and is 
found as a fact of consciousness in the completed personality given in 
article 30. The highest fact in existence is the oompleted soul, built up 
from its first elements to its highest faculty, all consummated in will, 
affections, intellect, and conscience, and all instinct with essential intel- 
ligence and essential activity, giving emotion, and liberty, and rationality, 
and conscientiousness. 

c. In the perfectness of human personality, found in the complete 
self-consciousness of the whole man, we have the first fact of that com- 



THE INTELLECT. 345 

pleteness and that perfectness which we call the beautiful when transfig- 
ured by the Reason. 

d. We have also the emotion which an object of beauty awakens within 
us in the ajsthetical affections, so that beauty, both as an original fact 
and an emotion, is found to be indigenous to the nature and structure 
of the soul itself: 

4T. a. The forty-seventh fact is that of deformity and ludicrousness. 
The deformed and ludicrous, both objects and emotions, are exaggera- 
tions of the actual, the sublime, and the beautiful. There is but a step 
between beauty and deformity, and a single step between sublimity and 
ridiculousness. 

b. The consciousness of any disproportion or misgrowth of any one 
of the affections — and such misgrowths are common ; to wit, too much 
egotism or vanity, too much trustfulness or hopefulness, too much as- 
piringness or religiousness — any of these, as facts in consciousness, 
lay the foundation fur the idea of the deformed and the ludicrous ; and 
they are both objects of deformity and susceptibilities to emotions of 
the ludicrous. 

48. The forty-eighth fact given is that of ethical discernment. The 
conscience accuses or else excuses, it condemns or it justifies, the ac- 
tion of the will and of the affections. 

49. The forty-ninth fact is that of the giving of a rule of duty. This 
rule, in its fullest sense and largest meaning, can be given only by the 
reason in its highest intelligence ; which rule is enforced by the con- 
science. But, still, the origin and germ of this rule is given by the 
original discernment of moral differences by the conscience, as in the 
last article. 

50. The fiftieth fact which we here note is that of the ethical enforce- 
ment of the rule of right, according to the discriminations of the con- 
science. The conscience not only discerns moral differences and gives 
a rule of duty, but it enforces the observance of them. It thereby gives 
the sense of obligation to obey the highest known rule of duty. 

51. The fifty-first fact which we name as given by the Consciousness 
is that of man's complete personality as an effect, conscious that it is an 
effect ; that is, the human mind is conscious of its own contingency and 
dependence. The human mind is conscious that it is not self-existent, 
nor self-created, but that it has a begun or caused existence. This fact, 
viz., the consciousness of being an effect, is seized by the reason as the 
ground of an adequate cause. And this completes our reconnoitring 
after the ontological facts of the being, action, and faculties of the mind. 
We have, doubtless, overlooked some ; others may not be so clearly ob- 
vious ; but on these facts the Reason will form its ideas. In giving 
these facts the Consciousness begins to know, and begins the knowledge 



346 AUTOLOGY. 

f 

of the mind. Here, and in this way, the mind can alone begin to know ; 
and these facts arc all found to combine in man's personality, and con- 
stitute it one whole. They are wrought into man's nature, bodily, intel- 
lectual, and spiritual, and are of nature, of animal life, and of the 
rational soul, respectively. Man is a complex and compound being, 
having force, animal life, and spirit ; he has the properties and powers 
of inanimate nature and of animal life, as well as human nature, and is, 
hence, made up of all these facts. His nature is both force and freedom ; 
and hence we find in him both liberty and necessity. 

SECT. III. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE HUMAN MIND, BRUTE 
BEING, AND INANIMATE NATURE. 

A. Facts peculiar to the Human Mind. 

a. Having given the facts of Consciousness, we now propose to sep- 
arate them into their respective classes, as belonging to the Human 
Mind, Brute Being, and mere Inanimate Nature; — the world of Spirit, 
the world of Life, and the world of Force. 

b. It must here be observed that these three classes of facts may 
be arranged under two general heads; viz., the Natural and the Super- 
natural; i. e., the personal and the impersonal.. The former is above 
nature, the latter is within nature. The knowledge of both is derived 
from the same source ; viz., the being of man as given in consciousness. 

c. The facts that are within na.ture contain all life, animal and vegeta- 
ble, and all inanimate Dature ; those facts that are out of nature and 
above nature comprehend all that is within nature, and then, rising 
above nature, include humanity, and all rational, affectional, and ethical 
persons in heaven and earth. The facts within nature have nothing that 
is peculiar to those that are above nature, while those above nature in- 
clude all that is within nature. 

d. The human mind is the highest finite object in the .universe, and 
comprehends a larger number of generic facts than any object that exists 
in nature. All the facts given by the Consciousness in the foregoing 
section, and, doubtless, others which we have overlooked, are found in 
man ; but as we descend from man to animal life, we find there only a part 
of the facts which we had before found in man ; and as we descend yet 
lower, to inanimate nature, we find a still smaller number of the original 
facts which man's more complete and comprehensive being contains. 

e. The difference between the human mind, animal life, and inanimate 
nature, may be clearly distinguished, as far as single words can distinguish 
them, by the terms spirit, life, and force ; the first standing for the hu- 
man mind, the second for brute being, and the third for inanimate nature. 

f. Some facts contained in each are found in all of them ; yet they 



THE INTELLECT. 311 

are all unhomogeneous. Spirit is not the same as life, nor the same as 
force, though the human spirit has both life and force ; nor 'is life the 
same as force, though brute being has both life and force. Inanimate 
nature, or force, differs from animate nature in that it has not life; and 
it differs from the human mind, or spirit, in that it has neither life nor 
spirit. It has simply force ; and as a force it exists in all its forms. 

g. The human mind has all the facts contained in spirit, life, and force. 
Brute being has all the facts contained in both life and force, or in 
animate and inanimate nature. Inanimate nature has only the facts of 
force, and none of the facts peculiar to spirit or life. And here, in order 
to make it appear that man is totally different from the brute, and that 
the brute is totally different from mere nature, it must be observed that 
the primordial elements in each are different from the others. 

h. Let it be noted that the primordial elements of essential ac- 
tivity and of essential intelligence, which enter into and produce the 
human mind, are themselves made of spirit ; while the essential activity 
and the essential intelligence that enter into and produce brute na- 
ture are made of merely the vital principle, or life ; and that nature is 
made of force simply. Yet the human mind has not only spirit, but 
life and force. 

i. It must be remembered that the essential activity which is in man 
has in it spirit, is spirit; and that the life and force which it also has 
are the life and force of spirit. It must also be observed that the essen- 
tial intelligence which is in man is spirit ; and that it, consequently, 
has both an apprehending and a comprehending power in it ; while brute 
being has in its essential activity only life and force ; i. e., the principle 
of vitality and the principle of force, with no spirit ; and the essential 
intelligence of brute being has in it no spirit and no comprehending, 
but merely an apprehending intelligence formed from a sensuous con- 
sciousness. 

j. And, lastly, inanimate nature has in it only one of the primordial 
elements of being, viz., essential activity ; and in that activity there is 
nothing but force ; it has no spirit, no life, and no intelligence of any 
kind. 

k. In order to exhibit the difference between the human mind, brute 
being, and inanimate nature, we here give the schedules of facts which 
belong to a complete human mind. We shall afterwards point out the 
facts which are peculiarly and exclusively human, and thus prepare the 
way for showing what facts belong to brute being and to inanimate 
nature. 



348 AUTOLOGY. 



FACTS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 

A. Elemental Facts. 

I. Essential Activity. 2. Essential Intelligence. 3. Essential Self. 
4. Essential Self-law. 5. Essential Liberty. 6. Essential Free Will. 

B. Universal Facts of Being. 
7. Being. 8. Diversity. 8. Identity. 10. Resemblance. 

C. Causal Facts. 

II. Cause. 12. Effect. 13. The vital and dynamical connection 
between cause and effect. 14. The vital and dynamical identity of 
cause and effect. 15. Motion. 16. Number. IT. Time. 

D. Facts of Substance and Quality. 

18. Substance. 19. Quality. 20. Affections. 21. Intellect. 22. 
Conscience. 23. The vital and dynamical relation between substance 
and qualities. 24. The vital and dynamical identity of substance and 
qualities. 

E. Facts of Vitality. 

25. Action and Reaction. 26. Perpetual Identity of the Self. 27. 
Perpetual Reknowing of the Consciousness. 

F. Facts of Personality. 

28. Free Cause. 29. Final Cause. 30. Complete Personality. 

G. Facts of Objectivity. 

31. Object. 32. Whole and Part. 33. Measure. 34. Space. 35. 
Impenetrability. 

II. Kinds of Being. 

36. Spirit. 37. Life. 38. Force. 39. Matter. 

I. Facts of Mode. 
40. Mode. 41. The Actual. 42. The Possible. 43. The Necessary. 

J. ^Esthetical Facts. 

44. Truth. 45. Sublimity. 46. Beauty. 47. Deformity and Ludi- 
crousness. 

K. Ethical Facts. 

48. The Conscience discerns Moral Differences. 49. The Rule of 
Duty is suggested to the Reason by the Conscience in the first instance. 
50. The Conscience gives the Sense of Obligation. 



THE INTELLECT. 349 

L. Theistic Facts. 

51. Man, as a free, affectional, rational, and ethical personality, is 
conscious that he has a contingent or begun, and not a self-existent, be- 
ing : he is conscious that he is an effect. 

I. These facts in man's nature constitute the universe of spirit, life, 
and force ; or the world of the human mind, the world of brute life, 
and the world of mere inanimate nature. On these facts, as we shall 
see, are founded all the categories of thought and of knowledge, which 
apply to and interpret all things, human, brute, and of nature. 

m. But while man's nature contains the full catalogue of facts above 
given, only a part of them belong exclusively to him. The larger por- 
tion of them he holds in common with animal life and inanimate nature ; 
a smaller portion of them is held by brutes in common with man and 
nature ; and the smallest portion of them is held by inanimate nature in 
common with animal life and the human mind. None of them, however, 
are exclusively in the possession of inanimate nature, and none in the 
exclusive possession of animal life ; but the human mind has facts which 
are exclusively its own, and are never found either in animal life or in 
inanimate nature. 

n. The facts which belong exclusively to the human mind are these : 
viz., Self-law, or Self-end, Liberty, Free Will, Affections, Intellect, Con- 
science, Perpetual Reknowing, Free Cause, Personality, and also the 
Human- Body. 

The fact that the human mvnd contains these facts and faculties shows 
that it is of another nature than mere brute life or inanimate nature. It 
shows that even the facts which it holds in common with them are pro- 
duced by a cause different from that which produces the same facts in 
them, and that the sameness is, consequently, confined to the facts, and 
does not belong to the causes that produce them. It must ever be 
remembered that, while the greater comprises the less, the less does not 
comprise the greater; i. e., that spirit has in it life and force, but that 
force has neither life nor spirit. Spirit is not built of force and life. 
Force cannot be developed into life and spirit ; nor can life be developed 
into spirit ; but spirit exists originally and in the first instance, and is 
generically different from mere life and force. It possesses, and can 
give off, life an,d force ; but life and force cannot be developed or im- 
proved into it. The fact that spirit has life, does not make life spirit ; 
nor does the fact that life has force, make force life ; nor, on the other 
hand, does the fact that spirit has life and force, drag it down to the 
level of mere life and force, nor prove that force and life, however 
combined, can ever produce spirit. 

o. In the order of nature's gradation it would seem necessary to take 



350 AUTOLOGY. 

up inanimate nature first, and that then we should take the self as the 
substance of brute being, and present the constituents of animal nature 
as the next in order above the mere inanimate world ; and, lastly, the 
facts of the human mind. 

p. But as man is the greatest finite object in the universe, and as the 
light by which we see what brute nature is, and what inanimate nature 
is, comes from human nature and the human mind, and as all facts con- 
tained in them are first found in the human mind, we shall consider that 
first, and mark the others as differing from it. 

Facts exclusively in the Human Mind. 

The human mind, or personality, has in it, in the first instance, all the 
great primary facts which are found in mere inanimate nature ; as, being, 
cause, effect, time, object, or quantity, space, action and reaction, &c, 
&c. ; and also all the facts of animal nature ; and then, in addition 
thereto, it has its own facts of human personality, which we shall now 
particularly consider and present in order. 

I. a. The first fact of personality is that of will, free will (including 
self). 

b. Consciousness, as we have often seen and repeated, gives us the 
two primordial elements . of the mind, essential activity and essential 
intelligence, as the source and beginning of all action and of all 
knowing. 

1. Then these two elements combine and produce the third; viz., 
self, or essential individuality. 

2. Then by recombining this essential individuality with the two pre- 
ceding, it becomes their law. 

3. Recombining again this law with the three preceding, it becomes 
liberty, which is the last element. 

4. Then recombining liberty with the four preceding, it gives will, or 
free will, as the result. Thus is free will generated, and stands in the 
consciousness as a distinct fact. 

c. Will has these five elements, all given in consciousness, and pro- 
duced by successive combinations of the two first with each other and 
with their results. They stand thus : — 

I. Essential Activity. 2. Essential Intelligence. 3. Essential Indi- 
vidual^. 4. Essential Law. 5. Essential Liberty. Each combined 
with each produces, 6. Essential Free Will. 

II. a. The second fact of personality given by the Consciousness is 
the affections. They might be called the -second class of facts ; for 
they are many — more numerous than those of the Will ; viz., 1. desire- 



THE INTELLECT. 351 

fulness ; 2. trustfulness ; 3. hopefulness ; 4. cheerfulness ; 5. aspiring- 
ness ; 6. reverentialness. 

b. These are elemental affections, given by Consciousness, which be- 
come, respectively, the bases of six classes of more determinate affec- 
tions, with their subordinate classes and manifestations; viz., 1. indi- 
vidual affections ; 2. social affections ; 3. patriotic affections ; 4. phil- 
anthropic affections ; 5. assthetic affections ; 6. religious affections. 
These constitute the second class, of the facts of personality given by 
Consciousness. 

III. The third class of the facts of personality given by Conscious- 
ness is the Intellect and its faculties; viz., 1. Consciousness. 2. 
Reason, with the Sense, made up of physical resistance and the five 
senses. 

IV. a. The fourth class of personal facts is the Conscience and its 
properties ; viz., the disceimment of moral differences, and the obliging 
to regard them. 

b. These four facts, with their subordinates, Consciousness gives us 
as making up the personality, and as distinguishing the personality from 
mere being. 

V. Perpetual Reknowing, or Memory. This is found in the action 
and reaction that give enduring identity. . ■ 

VI. a. The sixth fact of personality is free cause ; a cause whose 
action is self-originated, free, self-chosen, self-law, and self-adjudged as 
to its moral qualities. 

b. This is a free cause, a rational cause, an affectional and ethical 
cause, all combined into one person and personal cause. 

VII. Complete personality. 

a. The persondias in its elementary, and involuntary, and irrational 
nature all the facts of being, and holds them in common with mere 
being, mere nature ; but it has also its own peculiar facts which lift it 
above mere nature, and make it person, even a rational soul. 

b. In common with mere nature, or being, both animate and inani- 
mate, the person holds these facts as a part of itself and of nature ; viz., 
involuntary cause and effect, time, quantity, space, action and reaction, 
substance and qualities, and possible, actual, and necessary modes of 
existence, &c, &c. 

c. Then, rising above nature to the sphere of person, of free, rational, 
affectional, and moral life, it has the facts, also, of will, affections, intel- 
lect, sense, and conscience, and is thus a person and a personal cause. 



352 AUTOLOGY. 

d. Let it here be recalled that the Consciousness, in giving- the facts 
of inanimate nature, of animal life, and of rational life, gives them, not 
in separate parcels, but just as they arise in the complex nature of man, 
which is made up of involuntary and unintelligent nature, animal life, 
and rational life. 

e. These different stories of being are not each built of the separate 
materials which give them their name, but the varieties of material are 
all built into each part and story as its structure seemed to require.' 

f. Hence we find a part of man's personal being built in with his 
animal life and mere nature ; and a part of his involuntary and unintel- 
ligent nature mixed in with his animal and personal nature ; and animal 
nature is also found running from inanimate nature all the way up into 
the very heart of personal nature. 

g. And hence, in giving the first facts of consciousness, we give 
them promiscuously, as they are found chronologically in the complex 
structure of the mind ; to wit, essential activity, essential intelligence, 
working necessarily, and combining to produce self, as cause and effect, 
giving time. 

h. Then this self, or effect, as object, or quantity, giving space ; then 
self-law and liberty, giving will ; and, in producing and in maintaining 
will, giving action and reaction, and thus identity and memory; and 
then will, as substance, giving affections, intellect, and conscience, as 
qualities. 

i. Now, these facts, it will be seen, drop out promiscuously, without 
regard to the class to which they belong ; just as, in any structure, the 
various materials of stone, brick, mortar, iron, wood, might be found in 
any part of it. 

For convenient reference we subjoin a schedule of the faculties and 
the facts exclusively in the human mind : — 

I. The Will. 

1. Essential Activity. 2. Essential Intelligence. 8. Essential Self. 
4. Essential Self-law. 5. Essential Liberty. 6. Essential Will. 

II. The Affections. 

Elemental Affections. Determinate Affections. 

1. Desirefulness, giving Individual Affections. 

2. Trustfulness, " Social Affections. 

3. Hopefulness, " Patriotic Affections. 

4. Cheerfulness, " Philanthropic Affections. 

5. Aspiringness, " iEsthetical Affections. 

6. Reverentialness, " EeligiousAffections. 



THE INTELLECT. 353 

III. The Intellect. 
1. Consciousness. 2. The Reason, with the Sense. 

IV. The Conscience. 
1. Discernment of moral differences. 2. Enforcement of moral dif- 
ferences. 

V. Perpetual Reknowing. VI. Free Cause. VII. Personality. 

B. Brute Being. 
We are now prepared to examine animal or brute life, and find its 
position between inanimate nature and the rational soul of man, or be- 
tween spirit and force. Liie is the characteristic, though not the exclu- 
sive possession, of animal nature. 

a. We shall find that brute life is not an imperfect rational life, but a 
mode of existence peculiar to itself, distinct from man and from the 
forces of inanimate nature, and that as a whole it belongs to the side of 
mere nature, and not at all to the side of the rational soul of man. 

b. This will be made out when we consider the manifestations of 
brute life as they are found in the actions of brutes, and also in the 
structure of the brute nature itself, in both of which it will appear to be 
as it is, wholly diverse from humanity, and altogether in harmony with 
inanimate nature ; for nature is not dead ; all nature has some sort of 
vitality of action, if not animal life. 

c. Brute life will appear to be in sympathy and harmony with the 
laws of vegetable life, rather than with the free, volitional, and rational 
life of man. In fact, the brute has no intellect, properly so called, but 
only elective affinities, like the roots and plants in the ground, which 
seek nutriment fitting to them from air, earth, sunshine, and water ; or 
like the stomach in its reception of pleasant and digestible food, and its 
rejection of that which is unsavory and insalubrious, or incapable of be- 
ing turned into nutriment for the body. In short, the brute head or brain 
is homogeneous with the brute senses and the brute stomach, and governed 
by the same laws, and is not at all, in kind or degree, a human mind. 

I. We first take up the elements of brute life, and see how they 
develop themselves, and what are the results as compared with the 
development of the elements of the soul of man. 

a. In the first place, in order to show the generic difference between 
the human mind as spirit, and brute nature as mere life, we may note the 
facts in the foregoing schedule of a complete humanity which belong 
exclusively to humanity, and which are not found in brute nature; viz., 
Self-law, Liberty, Free Will, Affections, Intellect, Conscience, Essential 
Reknowing, Free Cause, Spirit, Personality. 

45 • 



354 AUTOLOGY. 

6. These facts, which do not appear at all in brute nature, speak for 
themselves, and show that the nature to which they belong' must be 
very different from that nature which is unable to produce them. 

c. We here also give the facts which remain unto brute being after 
the facts peculiar to humanity are taken away. A portion of the facts 
thus remaining are, as we shall see at the close of this article, peculiar 
to brute being, while the larger portion it holds in common with inani- 
mate nature or mere force. 

Facts in Brute' Life. 

1. Essential Activity. 2. Essential Intelligence. 3. Essential Self. 
7. Being. 8. Diversity. 9. Identity. 10. Resemblance. 11. Cause. 
12. Effect. 13. The dynamical connection between cause and effect. 
14. The dynamical identity of cause and effect. 15. Motion. 16. Number. 
17. Time. 18. Substance. 19. Qualities. 23. The dynamical relation 
between substance and qualities. 24. The essential identity of substance 
and qualities. 25. Action and Reaction. 31. Object. 32. Whole and 
Part. 33. Measure. 34. Space. 35. Impenetrability. 39. Matter. 
40. Mode of Being. 41. Actual. 42. Possible. 43. Necssary. 

We now take up the difference of human and brute being more par- 
ticularly. 

First, a. The difference between brute nature and human nature will 
very readily appear when we consider that a necessary self is the 
essence or substance of brute nature, while free will is the essence or 
substance of human nature. 

b. Man has the five elements of essential activity, intelligence, indi- 
viduality, law, and liberty, — all combining to produce essential will, the 
essence, centre, and substance of the mind; while the brute has only the 
two elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, or conscious- 
ness, producing in their combination only a self or individuality, as the 
centre and substance of brute mind, and stopping there. 

c. These two primordial elements in brute life, although analogous to 
those in human life, are yet so totally different from them that they 
have no power of any further development as essence or substance, but 
stop exactly there, when they have produced a self; while the human 
elements go on developing and combining until they produce, as we 
have seen, self-law, liberty, and free will. Here is the first great, 
broad, and generic difference between man and brute ; man has a free 
will as his essence and substance, while the brute has only a necessary 
self as the essence or substance of its being. 

Secondly. This abridgment that cuts off the will from brute nature, 
leaving it only a self, extends also to all the faculties that are developed 
as qualities from this substance. 



THE INTELLECT. 355 

a. For as the human will as substance and essence of human nature 
develops the homogeneous qualities of affections, intellect, and con- 
science, as naturally growing out of that substance, so the self, which is 
the essence and substance of brute nature, produces or develops neces- 
sarily into its own humogeneous and appropriate qualities ; and these 
qualities, like this substance, are totally diverse from the qualities of 
human nature. 

b. The affections of the brute — or, rather, that in the brute which is 
in some sort analogous to the affections in man — are developed, not 
from a free will, but from an involuntary and necessary self as then- 
essence and substance, and, consequently, differ in kind totally from 
human affections. They are not affections, but only self-sustentative 
propensities, parentive feelings, gregarious sympathies, and self-defensive 
dispositions. 

Thirdly, a. The same is true also of the intellect (if intellect the 
brute may be said at all to have ; for it, in fact, has none). That which 
in the brute is analogous to the human intellect is also developed from 
the same low grade of consciousness, not from the intelligence that has 
already developed itself into self-law, liberty, and free will, but from the 
intelligence that has only become a self by joining with the essential 
activity. 

b. Now, from this degree, or, rather, kind of essential intelligence, 
there can be developed no mind whatever, but only a sensuous conscious-' 
ness ; for both the intelligence and the activity of the brute must differ 
in kind, as well as in the degree, from the human mind ; and that from 
the very fact that they will not, and cannot, develop themselves into 
anything above a self. The brute has, properly speaking, no mind, no 
intellect at all, just as it has no will at all, but only a necessary self. 

c. No intellect can be developed from that low form of consciousness 
which is unable to rise above a self and create a will. The human intel- 
lect springs from the essential intelligence of the human mind — that 
intelligence, or consciousness, which has already developed itself into a 
free will. It could not spring from any element which could not pro- 
duce a free will, or from any essence or substance less than a free will. 

d. And this human intellect consists of consciousness, reason, and the 
sense, while the brute has neither of these properties like those in man, 
but only a low Order of consciousness, which springs from an intelligence 
and an activity so low that they can produce only a self as the essence 
or substance of brute nature ; and then the sense, made up of physical re- 
sistance and the five senses, inhering directly in this self as the essence 
aud substance of brute life. The reason is the chief faculty of the intellect 
proper, — the reason with its comprehending power producing ideas, and 
with its cognitive powers by means of ideas cognizing through the senses, 



356 AUTOLOGY. 

— but the brute knows external objects only by a sensuous conscious- 
ness, or by consciousness through the sense, with no mind, no intellect. 

e. But it will be asked, " Has not the brute essential activity and 
essential intelligence, and do not these give it the consciousness that it 
is a self? and is not this self the essence of brute nature ? " Certainly ; 
yet self is only a necessary self, to the end ; and this consciousness that 
it is a self differs from the human consciousness of a self which is 
quickened into a free will, and which is illuminated by the comprehending 
light of the reason and its ideas formed from the facts of consciousness. 
The brute self is a dark cellar of mere necessary forces ; the human will 
is a luminous centre and a free force. 

/. But as to cognitions, the brute has nothing to cognize with ; it has 
no ideas, no conceptions, and no cognizing faculty, because it has no 
reason. The human mind has the ideas of the reason as a universal 
language ; and the same reason which formed them into this language is 
interpreter to translate the objects of sense iuto this language. But the 
brute has no ideas, no universal and soul language ; for it is not a soul, 
and it has no interpreter to translate the facts of sense into this language 
of the soul ; hence it has no power of cognition, and can cognize nothing. 

g. What, then, are these knowings of the brute by which he selects 
his food, follows his keeper, goes to his stall and to pasture, and becomes 
docile and domestic, — and, if you will, is sagacious and strategic ? To 
this it is replied, as in the beginning of this section, that this apparent 
cognition comes under the head of elective affinities, and of simple and 
successive consciousnesses of separate and isolated facts : precisely as 
the brute is conscious of hunger and thirst, so is he conscious of any 
other modification of his conditions and relations. 

h. He seeks stall or pasture, and follows or serves his keeper, wears 
harness or submits to toil, and comes to feeding and to water, plays 
with his keeper or his kind, or gambols alone, all from the same animal 
and sensual wants, propensities, dispositions, and affinities, and not at 
all from rational considerations. He is allied to nature, and not to man ; 
he has affinity with all forms of inert, and vegetable, and animal life, but 
none at all with the rational soul of man. As the brute has no will, so 
it has no reason ; and as it has no freedom, so it has no comprehension ; 
but if no reason nor comprehension, then, of course, it has no ideas, 
and, consequently, can have no cognitions, but only sensuous conscious- 
nesses of isolated and single facts and things. As the sense inheres 
directly in the self, so all the facts that come before the sense are mere 
sensuous consciousnesses of facts, and not at all cognitions of them. 
The brute mind is conscious of external things singly and as single 
things just as it is conscious of itself. 

Fourthly, a. The essential activity and the essential intelligence 



THE INTELLECT. 357 

of the brute, which are unable to develop themselves into a will, affec- 
tions, and an intellect, are also most certainly unable to develop them- 
selves into a conscience ; for without a free will having self-law and 
liberty, there can be no proprietorship, and if no proprietorship, then 
there is no one to use a conscience, there is no use for a conscience, as, 
in fact, there is no volitional and rational force to make a conscience, 
and nothing to make a conscience out of. The conscience springs from 
the activity and intelligence of the soul after they have become respec- 
tively will and reason. But if there is no reason, then there is nothing 
to give a rule or law for the conscience to decide by ; and if no will, 
nobody to exercise a law over. 

b. If the essential activity and the essential intelligence, which are 
the primal elements of the mind, are not of a kind, and have not strength 
inherent and forceful enough in them to develop themselves above a 
self into self-law, liberty, and free will, then are they not of a kind 
which is able to produce affections for a free will, nor a reason for a free 
will, nor a conscience for a free will, and they do not do it. They are 
only able to produce a self, and then to superadd a few selfish and low 
propensities, and parentive and gregarious feelings, and self-defensive 
dispositions, and no intellect at all, but only a consciousness and the 
senses ; and as for a conscience, they are unable to produce it at all. As 
brute life has no free will, it is impossible that it should have any rea- 
son or any conscience. 

c. That essential intelligence in the brute that has already failed to 
develop itself into self-law and liberty, can surely never become the 
faculty of reason, to form ideas of law or liberty, or to make a cognition 
of law or liberty, or any matter connected with it ; nor has it any cog- 
nizance of anything made up of, or dependent upon, law or liberty ; 
hence, most obviously, such an intellect can never be a human intellect, 
nor do the work, nor have the range, of a human intellect, but must 
always be only a brute consciousness ; for precisely here is the distinc- 
tion between the brute and a human being. The brute stops at self, 
mere self, necessary self; the human being adds self-law and liberty to a 
self, and thereby produces will, free, responsible, answerable will, which, 
as substance of the mind, produces affections, intellect, and conscience, 
as its qualities. 

d. Thus the whole brute differs totally from the whole man in all 
the departments of their nature ; viz., will, affections, intellect, and 
conscience, and in physical body. 

To sum up, 1. The brute has no will, but only a self, while man has both. 
2. The brute has no affections, but only dispositions, propensities, and 
feelings, while man has all. 



358 AUTOLOGY. 

3. The brute has no reason nor ideas, but only consciousness and the 
sense, while man has them all. 

4. The biute has no conscience nor any discernment of moral differ- 
ences, but only a gregariousness, and a pleasure in approbation ; while 
man has conscience, discerns moral differences, and loves society and 
the approbation of others also. 

5. The brute has lower instincts than man. Man has instincts of ra- 
tionality; of freedom, and also of parental, humane, ethical, sesthetical, 
and religious affections, while the brute has only appetitive, parentive, 
and gregarious instincts. 

6. a. The brute has not the human body, nor can it have. This sub- 
ject comes up more properly in Division IV., under the head of Embodi- 
ment, but is pertinent here. The brute has a brute body, not by acci- 
dent, not to his detriment, but because it is a brute, and is incapable of 
filling an}^ other body. The brute body is not only best adapted to the 
brute mind, but is the natural outgrowth of the brute mind, and because 
the brute mind could in no way produce a human, or any other body but 
its own brute body. 

b. All bodies are the growth of the mind, just as all plants and 
grains are the growth of their own seeds and roots. And precisely 
as wheat produces wheat, and as the seed of an elm tree produces an 
elm tree, — as an elm seed cannot produce wheat, nor wheat produce an 
elm tree, — just so can no brute mind produce a human body, but must 
produce its own body. 

c. The brute has no cunning of human invention to need the human 
hand, no thoughts of the human reason to need the human voice ; it 
has no free will to choose, no affection to carry out, no conscience to 
discern and enforce moral differences, and, therefore, has no power 
within him to produce, as he has no nature to need, the human body,, so 
fearfully and wonderfully made, walking erect in the image of God. 

d. But the brute does need the brute body just as it is, and would 
be poor and destitute without it. A human mind might much better be 
in a brute body than a brute mind in a human body ; for a human mind 
could wield the brute bodily forces and live in a brute tenement, but a 
brute could not wield the forces of the human body, nor live a single 
year in it as a tenement of his mind. Thus do both mind and body 
prove the distinction in kind, and not simply in degree, of man and 
brute. 

e. Brutes have an animal organization with the five senses in some 
respects more enduring, acute, and powerful than man; yet they have 
not hands, nor the power of speech. The want of these lays them un- 
der great disabilities — with them they would be much more formidable, 
and if tamed more useful. Yet the fact that whole races of men with 



THE INTELLECT. 359 

hands and speech never emerge from barbarism is proof that these gifts 
would not elevate the brute. 

f. Moreover, the brute body and members are a necessary growth of 
the brute intelligence and life. The brute is not placed under any 
disabilities by his body, but has as much body as he has brain, as many 
members as he has wits. The body grows out of, and on to, the mind, 
and is what the mind is ; hence a brute is a brute in mind and in body ; 
and here is the difference between man and brute, clear and distinct. 
(See Division IV.) 

II. But this difference between man and the brute will appear yet 
more fully when we consider facts — facts of brute life as they appear 
in his actions and habits. 

1st. Brutes show no free will. They never exercise free choice, but 
have only an involuntary self, and not a free will. 

a. Their self is made up of essential activity and essential intelli- 
gence combining in a self; but these elements never develop and re- 
combine into self-law, and liberty, and will, as do the elements of a 
human self. The brute is, therefore, not will, but self; not free, but 
necessary force, different both in kind and in degree from the human 
self and will. 

2d. a. The brute exercises no affections, or, if he does, they are only 
of the lowest order and degree. The brute has not affections, properly 
so called, but only animal appetites, self-sustentative propensities, pa- 
rentive feelings, gregarious sympathies, and defensive dispositions. 

b. This is all : a brute never loves nor hates, while man has the 
whole range of affections, with all their multiplied subordinate classes 
and manifestations of individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, aes- 
thetic, and religious affections. 

3d. The brute has no reason ; for it never forms ideas or rationalizes, 
it never argues or reasons, never discerns cause or end, intent or de- 
sign, never imagines, never theorizes, never invents or improves, never 
enhances or sublimates, never beautifies, never makes a theology ; 
while man, with his reason, his conscience, and his heart, and his free 
will, does all these things. 

a. The brute never comprehends. He has only the consciousness that 
he is a self, but has no rational comprehension of what that self is. 
Self-consciousness is one thing, self-comprehension is another thing. 
The one is mere consciousness, the other is reason. The one gives mere 
being ; the other gives being not only, but the mode of being, and the 
end of being ; looks back to a cause and forward to a result. The 
former is a mere brute power, the latter a human endowment. 

b. The brute never cognizes. His consciousness develops itself 



360 AUTOLOGY. 

through the senses, and thus becomes conscious of external objects, as 
matters of consciousness rather than of cognition. Of cognition proper 
the brute has no capability ; for it has no ideas or conceptions ; and if it 
has not conceptions, it, of course, has no cognition ; and if no cogni- 
tion, no memory. (See Division VI.) Its knowings, therefore, are a 
succession of sensuous consciousnesses rather than of such cognitions 
as the human mind is capable of. The brute simply becomes conscious 
of each object separately through the senses, and discriminates, by the 
agreeableness or disagreeableness to the senses and appetites, that 
which comes before it. It has only sensuous consciousness with that 
instinct which the senses and bodily organs, and appetites, and sensibil- 
ities give, as to food, self-preservation, and its young, and as to its 
haunts, its keeper, and its home, for which the brute is peculiar. 

c. The brute does not seem properly to remember ; for memory re- 
quires the possession of a conception of the object remembered, just as 
cognition in the first instance does, which the brute has not and cannot 
have. But the brute retains an object or event agreeable or painful so 
long as the consciousness lasts, aud then loses it until a new sensu- 
ous consciousness, occasioned by contact or the senses, renews the con- 
sciousness of it. Thus there is no memory, but only a succession of 
separate and sensuous consciousnesses by which the brute both knows 
and retains the knowledge of objects. . It retains the consciousness of 
an object or event, or it very readily revives it by corning again into its 
presence ; but this is not memory nor cognition, but only sensuous 
consciousness. The brute intelligence is as much below the human 
mind and as totally diverse from it as the brute self is below the human 
will, and the brute heart below the human heart. 

4th. Brutes never discern nor regard any moral differences, have no 
sense of obligation, no impulse to duty, no regard for the right, no rep- 
rehension of the wrong. The faculty of conscience, like that of the 
will, is wholly wanting. Thus, with no will, but only a necessary self; 
no affections, but only animal feelings ; no reason, but only a sensuous 
consciousness, and no conscience at all, — the brute is distinct, in both 
kind and degree, from man. 

The primary facts of brute life as distinguished from man are : 1. Es- 
sential activity and Essential intelligence, producing a mere necessary 
self. 2. Instead of Will, it has Self as substance. 3. Instead of the 
Affections as Qualities, it has Self-sustentative propensities, Self-defen- 
sive dispositions, Parentive feelings, Gregarious sympathies. 4. Instead 
of Intellect, it has Consciousness and Sense. 

The facts which are found in animal life, but which are not found in 
the forms of inanimate nature, are these, viz. : — 



THE INTELLECT. 361 

I. Essential Activity, Essential Intelligence, Essential Self. 

II. Self-sustentative Propensities, Self-defensive Dispositions, Paren- 
tive Feelings, Gregarious Sympathies, Brute Body. 

III. As a Knowing Faculty. 1. Consciousness. 2. Sense. 

The facts which are found in inanimate nature, and held by it in com- 
mon with both animal life and the human mind, will appear in the follow- 
ing article. 

C. Inanimate Nature. 

By inanimate nature is meant Force, not dead matter, for there is no 
such thing ; nor yet mere matter, for matter is simply the capacity to 
fill space, and both the human mind and animal life have matter in this 
respect as much as inanimate nature has. Matter may be affirmed of 
spirit and life as much as of force ; for they both have impenetrability, 
as we have seen, and whatsoever has impenetrability has and fills space, 
and whatsoever fills space has matter; for that is matter, viz., the 
capacity to (ill space. What the thing is with which space is filled 
makes no difference as to its being properly called matter; the matter of 
a thing is its reality filling space. This has already appeared in the 
facts of consciousness set forth in this chapter, and will appear again in 
the work of the Reason in giving ideas, in the next chapter. Inanimate 
nature is, therefore, more properly termed force ; force as distinguished 
from life and spirit. As such it has certain properties which it holds in 
common with life and spirit, while they have some properties which it 
has not. 

a. In noting the difference between inanimate nature or force, on the 
one hand, and animal life and the human mind, or lite and spirit, on the 
other, we observe that inanimate nature or force has certain essential 
facts, activities, and conditions, such as cause, effect, time, quantity, 
action and reaction, substance, quality, and possible, real, and necessary 
modes of existence ; but has no vital force, no consciousness, no self, no 
sensibilities, no intelligence, no senses, as have men and animals. Man, 
rising over all, has all the elements found in nature and in animal life, 
with the addition of those of personality or spirit, as will, affections, 
intellect, and conscience. And here it will assist us in discerning the 
difference between mere inanimate nature, or force, on the one hand, and 
brute being and the human mind, on the other, to give those facts in the 
foregoing complete schedule of the human mind, which are found in the 
human mind and in brute being, and not in inanimate nature, or force. 
1. In the human mind, and not in inanimate nature, are found Essential 
Activity, Intelligence, Self, Self-law, Liberty, Free Will, Affections, 
Intellect, Conscience, Reknowing, or Remembering, Free Cause, Com- 
plete Personality, the Human Body. 2. In brute being, and not in inani- 



362 ' AUTOLOGY. 

mate nature, Essential Activity, Intelligence, Self, Self-sustentative pro- 
pensities, Self-defensive dispositions, Parentive feeling's, Consciousness, 
the Sense, Gregarious sympathies, the Brute Body. These facts found 
in the human mind and in brute being, and not in inanimate nature, show 
that there must be a generic difference between them. It is true, how- 
ever, that in. the largest part of the facts of consciousness, inanimate nature 
holds them in common with the human mind and with brute being. 

b. But it must not be inferred, because inanimate nature and animal 
life have some things in common, that they therefore are of the same 
homogeneity, and that they differ only as to' degree or quantity ; nor let 
it be supposed, because brutes and men have some things in common, 
that therefore they are the same in kind, differing only in degree. This 
is not at all inferable from the facts ; but, on the contraiy, the 1'act that 
nature has only cause, effect, time, quantity, space, action, reaction, 
substance, quality, and never rises to the height of life and intelligence, 
is proof that inanimate nature and animal life differ in kind, and not 
simply in degree. 

c. The fact that animal life (though having, seeming^, the same pri- 
mordial elements as the mind of man. viz., essential activity and essen- 
tial intelligence, and by the combination of them has a self, and by the 
further development of them has also animal feelings and sensuous 
consciousness) never develops itself into will, affections, reason, and 
conscience, is proof that even in its original elements it differs from the 
mind of man. 

d. For, if will, affections, and reason, and conscience were in those 
primordial elements, then certainly they would come out ; nay, of neces- 
sity they would come out, as in the case of man. But the fact that 
they do not come out is proof positive that they are not there. Thus 
it is clear that inanimate nature is both below and distinct from ani- 
mate nature, and that animate nature is distinct from and below the 
mind of man. The higher may possess somewhat of the lower, but the 
lower has not the higher. The difference, therefore, between inanimate 
nature and animal life is generic and qualitative, and not simply in de- 
gree and quantitative. And the difference between men and animals is 
also generic and qualitative, and not simply that of degree and quantity. 

e. The mind of man has within it cause, effect, time, quantity, 
space, action and reaction, substance, and qualities, and other facts of 
mere nature and life, and may be cognized so far forth under these 
categories ; but these will not give the whole of the mind. We must 
also have the personal categories of will, affections, intellect, sense, and 
conscience, in order fully to cognize it. 

/. So also has the human mind not only essential activity, essential 
intelligence, or consciousness, producing self, some low sensibilities and 



THE INTELLECT. ' 363 

desires and the senses in common with the brutes, but it has more ; it 
has not only activity, intelligence, and self, but also will ; and not 
simply a few low feelings, propensities, and dispositions, but all orders 
of affections full and complete ; and not only sense, but reason and 
conscience. 

g. Man may thus descend in the range of his propensities to mere 
brute life, and from brute to inanimate nature ; but these can never 
come up to man. There is a development, to be sure, from nature up ; 
but there is also the addition of the principles of life and the principles 
of intelligence to inanimate nature to form brute life, and the addition 
of self-law and liberty, giving will and reason, affections and conscience, 
to the brute life, in order to make man a rational soul ; and these addi- 
tions are in kind, and not in degree. Inanimate nature has no facts 
which are exclusively its own ; neither has animal life ; but all the facts 
found in inanimate nature are- first found in man's nature, and also in 
animal life. So are all the facts of animal life found in man's nature, 
though combined with the facts which are exclusively man's, and essen- 
tially altered by them. The facts which inanimate nature has left unto 
it after taking out the facts found exclusively in man's nature, and 
those found in animal life, are these, viz. : — 

7. Being. 8. Diversity. 9. Identity. 10. Resemblance. 11. Cause. 
12. Effect. 13. Dynamical relation of cause and effect. 14. Identity 
of cause and effect. 15. Motion. 16. Number. 17. Time. 18. Sub- 
stance. 19. Quality. 23. The djmamical connection of substance and 
quality. 21. The indentity of substance and quality. 25. Action and 
Reaction. 31. Object. 32. Whole and Part. 33. Measure. 31. Space. 
35. Impenetrability. 38. Force. 39. Matter. 40. Mode. 41.' Actual. 
42. Possible. 43. Necessary. 

h. Having thus attained the facts of inanimate nature and animate 
life, and the facts of personality, we shall proceed to subject them to the 
crucible of reason, and see what ideas it will refine them into, or make 
out of them. We have already shown that it is the office of the con- 
sciousness to furnish original and primary facts to the reason, subjec- 
tive facts lying in its own being, and already in its own unaided grasp, 
and this we have now seen that it has actually done. The facts of simple 
being, of animal life, and the facts of personality, are now before the 
reason, being grasped and presented there by the consciousness. The 
first office of the reason is, as we have seen, to form ideas out of the 
first facts presented to it by the consciousness. The* next office of the 
reason is to cognize external objects, presented by physical resistance 
and the senses, by. means of these ideas thus formed from the facts of 
consciousness. We now take up the work of the reason in the forma- 
tion of ideas from the facts of consciousness. 



364 AUTOLOGY. 



DIVISION II. 

ABSOLUTE KNOWING, OR THE ORIGIN AND NATURE 
OF IDEAS AND OF THE SENSE. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE REASON FORMS IDEAS FROM THE FACTS OF THE 

CONSCIOUSNESS. 

SECT. I. WHAT IS AN IDEA ? 

a. This section contains the following 1 inquiries. 

First. What is an idea ? Second. What is the difference between an 
idea and a conception ? Third. How can a universal idea be derived 
from a contingent fact? Fourth. Arc a priori ideas possible? 

b. We have found the faculties of the Intellect to be the Conscious- 
ness, and the Reason with the Sense ; and that all knowing is either 
spontaneous and absolute, or interpretative and relative ; and that there 
must of necessity be a spontaneous knowing before there can be an in- 
terpretative knowing, and an absolute knowing before there can be a 
relative knowing. 

c. We have also found that while the Consciousness can know facts 
directly, spontaneously, and absolutely, and while the Reason can 
comprehend ideas directly, spontaneously, and absolutely from those 
facts, yet that the Reason can cognize external objects only by means 
of ideas formed from the facts of consciousness on the one hand, and the 
intervention of the essential impenetrability, and the senses bringing it into 
contact with external objects, on the other ; and that the Reason must 
itself have and furnish those ideas, and physical resistance and the five 
senses must furnish this contact with the objects of the external world. 

1. a. The question then arises which is now immediately before us, 
viz., What is an idea? How does the Reason obtain its ideas with 
which to cognize external objects ? and what has the Consciousness to 
do with furnishing those ideas ? 

b. We reply, that an idea is the comprehension of something, just as 
a consciousness is a consciousness of something, and that the Reason 
is the author to itself of its own ideas. 



THE INTELLECT. 865 

6. It comprehends ideas spontaneously, just as the Consciousness cog- 
nizes subjective facts spontaneously. 

d. Yet as a consciousness must be a consciousness of something, so 
an idea must be an idea of something ;' there must needs be something 
known beforehand which the Reason may comprehend, and of which, 
and upon which, it may form or comprehend its ideas. 

e. Not that the idea is any part or modification of the object, but 
simply the freeing of the object from limitation and contingency. That 
which is limited and contingent is object. That which is universal and 
necessary is idea. An idea is a delimitized fact — a fact set free ; as 
a slave becomes a freeman, so a fact transfigured into an idea is disin- 
thralled, emancipated, and enfranchised b} r the reason into a freeman and 
citizen of the whole empire of thought and knowledge. 

f. Now, there are certain primary facts which the Consciousness fur- 
nishes, from which, and of which, the Reason, by a sort of transfigura- 
tion, — a transfiguration like that by which physical becomes spiritual, 
and mortal becomes immortal, — forms its ideas, and without which it 
could have no ideas ; rather, that which to the eye of Consciousness is 
a mere contingent fact, is by the eye of Reason seen to be a necessary 
idea or a universal principle. But until the Consciousness first sees it as 
a fact, the Reason can never see or comprehend it as a principle. - 

g. An idea is the comprehending of something ; but how can there be a 
comprehending unless there be a something to be comprehended ? There 
must, therefore, be a fact before there can be an idea; and this fact is con- 
tingent, limited, and individual, while the idea is universal and necessary. 

h. As. for instance, that one right angle is precisely equal to 
another right angle is a limited, particular, individual, and contingent 
fact seen by the senses and verified by experiment; but that all 
right angles must be equal is a principle seen only by the Reason after 
the particular fact is given, and it is an unlimited, universal, and neces- 
sary truth. Now, this is what is meant by an idea, and by forming an 
idea by the Reason from a fact of consciousness. 

2. a. And here we come upon the difference also between a concep- 
tion and an idea. A conception of a thing is the grouping in the mind 
of the prominent characteristics by which its individuality and identity 
are made out and immediately known ; but this conception is, by its 
nature and definition, contingent and individual, and confined to the one 
object of which it is the conception, and inapplicable to any other, 
while an idea is the comprehension of that, in any object, which is 
universal and neccssaiy. 

b. That the right angle in the quadrant before me is precisely like 
the right angle in the square of the carpenter, is a contingent fact. I may 
conceive that fact, and go out with that conception, and cognize other 
squares with it ; but that all right angles must be equal everywhere is an 



366 AUTOLOGY. 

idea of the Reason of which I may be assured as true everywhere ; but 
the conception has no assurance of its truth beyond the individual case 
from which it is derived. The Reason may certainly form mere concep- 
tions of facts, but it will also form ideas which are both conceptions and 
something' more. 

3. a. But here it is' asked, How can a necessary and universal idea 
be derived from a contingent and limited fact ? The reply is, that all 
mere facts except the existence of the Deity himself, are contingent and 
limited, and that they are formed into ideas, or rather ideas are formed . 
from them, by taking away that very limitation and contingency which 
are incompatible with necessity and universality. 

b. There is, however, a respect in which all contingent facts become 
necessary facts ; but this. has no bearing on the formation of ideas. While 
there is no antecedent necessity that a contingent fact should exist, yet 
when it does once exist and become an actual fact, then its actual ex- 
istence is a necessary fact which it would be" self-contradictory to deny, 
or suppose not to be ; for a thing cannot be, and not be, at the same 
time, nor when it has once been can it ever " not have been." The fact 
of its having existed is a necessity, a necessary fact. Tims every con- 
tingent fact becomes, the instant that it exists, a necessary fact. 

c. Moreover, when a contingent fact once is, and thereby ceases (so 
far as the fact or event of its being is concerned) to be a contingent fact, 
and becomes a necessary fact, then it becomes the necessary and ab- 
solute evidence that some necessary cause must have existed before it, 
either immediately or farther off ; and thus have we the fact and the 
proof of the existence of necessary facts. And thus we see that the 
facts from which universal and necessary ideas are found are,- or may be, 
in some respects, necessary facts, though that contributes nothing to the 
formation of ideas. 

d. That God is, as the first cause, and exists necessarily, is thus de- 
monstrated by the existence of man, whose contingent being, and rational, 
volitional, and ethical nature, demand for him a personal and absolute cause. 

e. But the answer will more fully appear when we consider that all 
necessary ideas are ideas of relations ; viz., the relation of objects to 
their own constituents, or the relation of the constituents of objects 
to each other, which by Kant are called analytical judgments : and the 
relation of objects to each other, which he calls synthetical judgments, 
and not truths of objects merely. 

/. It is also manifest that these relations exist first as 'mere particular 
facts, dependent on other contingent facts, before they can be known as 
necessary or universal ideas or principles ; therefore facts must, of 
necessity, first be, and be known as facts, before the relation of facts can 
be ; and the relation of facts must be known as a particular fact or concep- 
tion before it can be known as a universal and necessary idea or principle. 



THE INTELLECT. . 3GT 

g. For instance, says Kant, we cannot affirm of anything that it must 
be ; that is, that its non-existence would be absurd ; but we can affirm 
that if something is, the non-existence of a certain relation would be 
absurd. We may say that the sum of three angles of a triangle must 
be equal to two right angles ; that if the triangle actually has an exist- 
ence, it would be absurd to deny this ; but it is not absurd, and it implies 
no contradiction to say that no triangle exists, and if no triangle, of 
course no angles, and no equality of the sum of its three angles to two 
right angles exists at all as a' fact. 

h. And just so of any necessary truth ; it depends for its actual and 
real existence on a contingent fact. The existence of a triangle is a 
contingent fact, and the relation of the sum of its angles to two right 
angles is a particular fact, and contingent of course also as a simple 
fact, inasmuch as its existence depends on a contingent fact. But the 
triangles being first given as a contingent fact, and the relation being 
first given as a simple fact, the Reason delimits and transfigures it into a 
necessary and universal principle. But all ideas are necessary truths, and, 
therefore, must be truths of relation, and therefore demand also that 
facts should first be, before they can be. 

i. For instance, the idea of man is a necessary and universal idea ; 
i. e., if man exist at all, he must exist in accordance with the idea of 
man. A certain combination of mind and matter constitutes man — this 
is the necessary idea of man ; whether man exists at all or not is a con- 
tingent fact; If man exists at all, he must conform to certain con- 
stituents of humanity. This conformity to the constituents of humanity 
is a necessary truth ; but still 'this conformity of man to the constituents 
of humanity is a relation, and must exist as a single and contingent 
fact dependent on the contingent fact of man's existing at all, before 
it can be known as a necessary truth. 

4. a. Since, therefore, there must always be a contingent fact be- 
fore there can be a necessary truth, idea, or principle, it follows that 
an a priori idea is impossible, and that an a priori science is an absurdity. 
A science that' pretends to have an idea before facts, and as the con- 
dition of facts, is utterly preposterous. 

b. A science of external nature may be built on principles that are 
a priori to the facts of external nature, but those principles themselves 
must first be based on facts, or they never could be. 

c. A science of the mind built on principles a priori to the facts of 
the mind is doubly absurd. The mind must needs exist before it can 
make a science of itself. It must be conscious that it exists, or it can 
cognize nothing ; and if it is conscious of its own existence, then it 
has a fact before it has a principle, idea, or relation of that fact. 

d. To say that a man may or must have an idea of how he must be, 



368 AUTOLOGY. 

and what he must be, before he can be conscious that he is, is a contra- 
diction in terms. 

e. Facts of consciousness, then, are both chronologically and logically 
before ideas or principles in the science of the mind, and a system of 
psychology built on a 'priori principles is both an historical and a philo- 
sophical blunder ; for facts of consciousness must, of necessity, bo 
known before any idea of the Reason in relation to the mind can have 
existence ; and historically they ai-e first in being as well as first in 
being known, i. e., they are both logically and chronologically first and 
before ideas. 

/. And this is true of the divine as well as the human mind. God 
must be as a fact before his own thoughts or deeds ; hence the being 
of God is the standard of truth as well as the rule of right. All ideas 
must come from the ultimate facts of God's being ; therefore before 1 we 
can know external objects we must not only have the categories which 
are the ideas formed from the facts of relations, but we must have the 
facts that give those relations, and make them both possible and real. 

g. We must have a super-categoric knowing before we can have a 
sub-categoric knowing, and before we can have categories at all ; that 
is, Ave must know the categories, — i. e., the ideas and "principles — of 
things before we can know external things ; and we must know facts 
before we can know the ideas or categories which are based upon them. 
We therefore seek first for the facts of consciousness, which are the 
bases of the ideas and categories of the Reason, and then, with these 
ideas or categories, we are prepared to cognize external objects when 
they are brought before us, by physical 'resistance or the operations of 
the senses. 



SECT. II. THE DIFFERENCE IN THE RELATION OF THE REASON TO 
THE CONSCIOUSNESS IN FORMING IDEAS, FROM ITS RELATION 
TO IT IN COGNIZING EXTERNAL FACTS. 

1. a. The fa^ts of consciousness are given with the consciousness 
that gives us being itself, and which gives us the mind and its faculties. 

b. These primary facts are, therefore, in possession before the Reason 
or the senses have acted, or can act at all, so that when the Reason 
comes into action, it finds them already on hand in the consciousness. 
These facts are, therefore, chronologically, as well as logically, before 
the Reason and its ideas. Facts are, and must be, before ideas can be. 

c. As the Reason finds itself already in the embrace of consciousness 
when it first awakes to life, so also it finds itself in the midst of the 
multitude of the facts of consciousness. 

d. Rather, the self is first conscious of itself and of the facts oon- 



THE INTELLECT. 369 

nected therewith that make up and define the self, before it is, or can 
be, conscious of holding 1 the Intellect or its faculties in inherence. 

2. a. And now the Reason, finding itself already in the midst of 
these facts, what does it clo ? The office of the Reason is different 
from that of Consciousness in this respect — the Consciousness gives us 
only, facts, primary and essential to be sure, but only contingent and in- 
cidental, while the Reason gives us ideas and principles which are uni- 
versal and necessary, and are the rational comprehension and explanation 
of those facts. 

&, Rather, since the idea must be an idea of something, and a prin- 
ciple must be a principle of something, and cannot exist, or be, before 
something is, the Reason takes these primary facts of Consciousness and 
delimits, transmutes, transfigures, and glorifies them into necessary and 
universal ideas and principles. 

c. For the difference between a fact or thing and a principle or idea 
is this; viz., that the idea or principle is freed from the individuality, 
limitation, and contingency that belong to, and constitute, particular 
facts and individuals. 

d. The Reason is an independent faculty, and knows immediately and 
absolutely by its own inherent capability, just as the Consciousness is 
essentially conscious, and knows immediately and absolutely by its own 
capability. 

e. And the knowledge which the Reason gives is original and abso- 
lute knowledge, distinct, in kind from that furnished by the Conscious- 
ness ; different as thought and thing, fact and principle, object and idea. 
As the Consciousness must cognize the facts within its grasp, so mnst 
the Reason comprehend the principle or idea of these facts. As the 
Consciousness cannot cognize without having something to cognize, so 
the Reason cannot comprehend or idealize without having something to 
idealize or comprehend. 

f. Now, the Consciousness, because it is self-seeing and able to cog- 
nize or see itself directly as a fact, finds its object of knowledge in itself. 
But the Reason, though it is essentially self-comprehending, cannot 
comprehend itself directly until it is given to itself as an object of the 
Consciousness ; for the Reason has no self-consciousness of its own ; it 
comprehends itself, and comprehends that it does comprehend itself, 
after the Consciousness gives it to itself. As the eye does not see itself, 
but sees other objects, so the Reason does not see itself, but sees other 
objects. The Reason, however, will comprehend itself as it compre- 
hends other objects, when it is properly brought before itself. 

g. But the Consciousness is essentially self-seeing, and it, therefore, 
is able to furnish the first facts to the Reason, which are necessary, in 
order that it may cognize and comprehend them ; and the Reason finds 

47 



370 AUTOLOGY. 

these facts in the Consciousness, coeval with its own existence ; and it 
takes hold of them, and forms from them, or, rather, discovers in them, 
ideas and principles. 

h. And here we clearly discern the difference in the relation of the 
Reason to Consciousness in the formation of ideas, from its relation to 
Consciousness in the cognition of external facts. In the formation of 
ideas we have seen that the Reason finds the facts already and before- 
hand in the embrace of Consciousness ; and from their being and rela- 
tions it forms or comprehends its ideas. In cognizing external objects 
the Reason finds them outside of the Consciousness ; and its office is to 
introduce them, and bring them into the Consciousness by means of 
physical resistance, or the five senses, and its own idea. 

i. In the case of forming ideas from the facts of Consciousness, the 
knowing of the Reason is immediate and absolute, a rational spontaneity. 
In the case of cognizing external objects, the knowing of the Reason is 
mediate and relative, and an interpretation of the facts of sense by the 
ideas of the Reason. 

SECT. III. THE REASON' DOES ITS WORK OF TRANSFORMING FACTS 
INTO IDEAS. 

a. Taking up the work of the Reason in comprehending the facts of 
Consciousness, and in forming them into ideas, we find that it proceeds 
by delimiting them of all that is individual and contingent, and thus 
transfiguring them into universal and necessary ideas. 

6. For to take away the individuality and the contingency that. belong 
to a fact, is to comprehend it, and change it from a fact to an idea. 

1. The Idea of Life. 

a. The first fact given to us by the Consciousness is that of essential 
activity. This is the fact of life, the vital principle. 

b. From this fact the Reason takes away the limits which confine it 
to an individual being, and thus transforms it into an idea, the universal 
and necessary idea of life. In other words, the Reason sees by its own 
original intuition and insight, not only that this life of the soul of which 
it is conscious is essentially living and essentially active, but that all 
life is, and necessarily must be, a living and essential activhVv. 

c. In this manner it forms the necessary and universal idea of life, 
by delimiting and transfiguring the individual and contingent fact of the 
essential and living activity of which the mind is conscious into a uni- 
versal and necessary idea of all life, and life in all places. 

2. The Idea of Knowingness. 
a. The second fact given by the Consciousness is that of essential 



THE INTELLECT. 311 

intelligence. This is the fact of essential knowingness, knowing per- 
petually and involuntarily, knowing co-etaneously and co-extensively with 
life itself. 

b. Essential knowingness is the mind's ever and perpetually being 
conscious, and conscious that it is conscious. This fact the Reason de- 
limits and transforms into the necessary and universal idea of know- 
ingness. 

c. The idea here found is not that of knowing in its largest, but in 
its smallest, most primitive, generic, and essential sense ; that knowing- 
ness with which the mind begins to know, and by which alone it can 
begin to know. 

d. This knowingness combines in itself the power of both sense and 
of reason, as has been shown ; so that it can give subjective facts with- 
out the help of either the Sense or_ the Reason ; and thus it is, in the 
concrete, what Sense and Reason are in their separate capacities, and 
can do alone, in respect to subjective facts, what they unitedly can do 
in reference to external objects; viz., both sensate and cognize them. 

e. Hence it is the original and essential knowingness of the soul, and 
is the fact from which, by delimitation, the Reason forms the universal 
and necessary idea of knowingness. 

3. The Idea of Self. 

a. The third fact of Consciousness is that of essential self. This is 
formed by the combination of the two elements of essential activity and 
essential intelligence, producing self-consciousness, or the consciousness 
of a self. 

b. This fact the Reason delimits and comprehends as the necessary 
and universal idea of individuality or self; i. e., all selves must of 
necessity have these elements, and these elements always and every- 
where constitute a self. 

4. The Idea of Self law. 

a. The fourth fact which the Consciousness gives is that of essential 
self-law. This individual fact the Reason transforms irito a universal 
idea by taking away all that limits it, and makes it contingent. 

b. Self, as an element, recombined with essential activity and essen- 
tial intelligence, gives the contingent fact of self as an end of action, 
which the Reason transforms into the necessary and universal idea of 
self-law ; i. e., all self-law is necessarily self-end, self as an end of ac- 
tion ; and whatsoever thus has its end of action in itself, has of neces- 
sity self-law. 

c. The Reason sees this to be both necessary and universal, and thus ' 
it forms its universal and necessary idea of self-law. 



372 AUTOLOGY. 

d. I am my own law of action. I am a law unto myself. My own 
I, egoism, or self, is my law ; not my appetites, my passions, or my 
love of gain or glory ; these are not my law ; if they were, they would 
be my masters. But my own manhood asserts itself as its own law, 
and its own master, and its own proprietor; and this fact the Reason 
delimits and transforms from a contingent fact into the universal and 
necessary idea of self-law. 

5. The Idea of Liberty. 

a. The fifth fact given by Consciousness is that of liberty ; and this 
fact the Reason delimits and transfigures into the universal and neces- 
sary idea of liberty. 

b. Self-law is the soul of liberty. A self which has self-law has lib- 
erty. We have seen that the -two elements, essential activity and essen- 
tial intelligence, combined, produce the self ; and that this self, as a 
distinct element thus produced, when recombined with the two original 
elements, produces self-law. 

c. We now see that this self-law, recombined with all these elements 
which precede it, becomes the law of the self, and thus gives liberty to 
the self; for whatsoever has its own activity, momentum, or life, in 
itself, and its own law in itself, i. e., has itself for its law, and asserts 
itself in its action, has liberty. 

d. The Reason sees this to be the true idea of all liberty ; and this 
contingent and individual fact it delimits and transfigures into the ne- 
cessary and universal idea of liberty. 

6. The Idea of Free Will. 

a. The sixth fact given by the Consciousness is that of. essential free 
will. The combination of the five elements, essential activity, essential 
intelligence, essential self, essential self-law, and essential liberty, pro-, 
duces essential free will. 

b. This fact the Reason delimits of its individuality and' contingency, 
and transforms into the necessary and universal idea of free will. All 
free will must necessarily have these elements, and these elements ne- 
cessarily produce a free will. 

1. The Idea of Being. 

a. The seventh fact here noted as given by the Consciousness is that 
of being. This fact comes into Consciousness in the very first instance ; 
as when the Consciousness affirms, "I am conscious," the "lam" is 
the first thing affirmed, and this is being. 

b. But a moment's continuance of the act of Consciousness brings 
out the elements that lie deeper, viz., essential activity or life, and essen- 
tial intelligence, or Consciousness, and then essential self, which is the 



THE INTELLECT. 373 

result in which they both coalesce ; and here is, in fact, the starting- 
point of consciousness; viz., in the affirmation of the concrete fact of 
self, or ego. This self, ego, or " I am," is the first fact affirmed, and is 
the fact of being. 

c. But the Consciousness soon detects this affirmation as a composite 
one, and discerns the elements of which it is composed, and ever after 
that, these elements stand first affirmed by the Consciousness, as we 
have given them. Nor does the Consciousness stop at the self, but 
pushes on in the development of essential self-law, and essential liberty, 
and essential free will, before it settles fully into the consciousness of 
the ego, or being. Hence we ha^e given those elements, an4 the ideas 
formed from them, first. 

d. The fact of being comes ever more and more into consciousness 
until the whole person is- complete ; but we pause here at the completed 
Will, and take the affirmation of being here given as the fact which the 
Eeasou delimits of its individuality and contingency, and transforms into 
the universal and necessary idea of being ; being in general, being as 
opposed to nothing. All reality is being, and all being has reality. 

e. The being here affirmed is that which the Consciousness engrasps, 
and whose impenetrability it declares by engrasping, rather than by 
contact with an exterior object. Impenetrability is the essence of 
being, of course ; yet that impenetrability may be known by surrounding, 
embracing, and comprehending in consciousness as well as by colliding 
and contusion ; and the Consciousness does thus affirm the impenetra- 
bility of the self and the essence of being. 

f. It is true, also, that the Consciousness, in surrounding and compre- 
hending the self by its own living intelligence, and thus affirming its 
individuality and impenetrability as a being, also separates it from, 
objectivity, and thus affirms the being of that from which it isolates the 
self; but the affirmation of the self as an impenetrable and real being 
does not depend on distinguishing it from objectivity. It is affirmed 
positively, and that whether there is a something or a nothing from 
which to distinguish it. 

g. Let it be observed that the impenetrability here affirmed by the 
Consciousness is that of the self, the ego, the me, the mind, the spirit, 
the soul of man itself; and that this impenetrability is the evidence, not 
of materiality, but simply of reality. It is impenetrable because it is a 
real and actual entity, and not a shadow, and because any two self- 
consciousnesses must necessarily be mutually objective, and incapable 
of occupying the same space at the same time, and not because it is 
material, or of the substance of mere nature ; as force or as hard 
matter, as wood or stone, or bones or flesh, or even electricity or 
gravitation. • 



3U AUTOLOGY. 

h. All being has impenetrability, whatever be the kind of that being, 
whether mere material force, as nature, or animal life, as in brutes, or 
spirit, as in man ; and that because they .each and all have reality : 
even dead matter, or nature's forces, or animal life, has impenetrability ; 
not because of their materiality, but because of their reality. 

i. So also spirit, mind, soul, have impenetrability ; not because they 
have materiality, for they are not material, but because of their reality, 
for they do really and actually exist, and have a positive entity of their 
own. Impenetrability, therefore, belongs to all being alike, whether it 
be the forces of nature, animal life, or the human soul. (See Impene- 
trability.) 

8. The Idea of Diversity. 

a. The eighth fact given by the Consciousness is that of diversity. It 
is found in the giving of the diverse and successive elements of the 
Will, especially in the very distinct consciousness of the two original 
elements of essential activity and essential intelligence. 

b. This fact, the Reason, by delimitation, relieves of its individuality 
and contingency, and transforms into the necessary and universal idea 
of diversity. 

9. The Idea of Identity. 

a. The ninth fact given by the Consciousness is that of identity ; 
giveiij as we have seen, in the act of distinguishing diversity ; for there 
must be the affirmation of the identity of one thing be/ore there can be 
given the differing from it of another. 

b. The Consciousness affirms essential activity, and from it distin- 
guishes essential intelligence ; and then goes on. distinguishing all the 
other elements, and constantly affirming the identity and the difference 
of each and all of them. 

c. From this fact the Reason, by the act of comprehending and delim- 
itation, takes away the contingent and the individual, and affirms the 
necessary and the universal ; and this is the idea of identity. 

10. The Idea of Resemblance. 

a. The tenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of resemblance. 
The Consciousness holds all the elements of the Will which it has given 
in the unity of a common inherence. 

b. They all differ as individual elements, yet they all resemble each 
other in the fact of inherence ; therefore the Consciousness gives this 
fact of inherence as common to them all, and on this fact the Reason 
forms the universal and necessary idea of resemblance, by which objects, 
differing and distinct from each other, have a common agreement, and 
may be associated together. This is the idea of resemblance. 



THE INTELLECT. 375 

11. The Idea of Cause. 

a. The eleventh fact given by the Consciousness is that of cause. 
This fact is given by the combination of essential activity and essential 
intelligence, producing the self. 

b. These two original elements in their mutual action and reaction 
combine, and produce, as the result of their action, the self, found in 
self-consciousness. The essential activity is here a cause ; the essential 
intelligence is also a cause : they energize in producing a result. 

c. This fact of 'causation the Reason delimits of its individuality 
and contingency, and transfigures into a universal and necessary idea 
of all cause. 

d. The cause here given is a necessary cause ; for the action of the 
essential activity is necessary action ; so also is the action of the essential 
intelligence necessary action ; they are, therefore, necessary forces of life 
and intelligence producing the self, and are a fact of necessary cause. 

e. From the consciousness of this cause the Reason forms the neces- 
sary and universal idea of a necessary cause ; i. e., that all cause is 
essentially active, has necessary -activity, and must produce an effect ; 
and that every event or effect must have a cause. This necessary 
cause, it will be seen, is to be distinguished from free cause, which will 
be set forth in its place. 

12. The Idea of Effect. 

a. The fact of Effect is disclosed by the operation of the same ele- 
ments that show the fact of cause. Essential activity and essential in- 
telligence, combining as causes, produce the self, as effect. 

b. This fact the Reason takes and transforms, by delimiting it of all 
individuality and contingency, into a universal and necessary idea ; i. e., 
that every cause must produce an effect or event, and every event or 
effect must have a cause. 

13. The Idea of the Vital, and Dynamical and Necessary Relation between 
Cause and Effect. 

a. The thirteenth fact noted by the Consciousness is that of the vital 
and dynamical relation between cause and effect. This fact stands 
clearly in the consciousness, and is taken by the Reason and stripped of 
its mere contingency, and individuality, and transformed into the univer- 
sal and necessary idea of the vital, and dynamical, and necessary relation 
between all cause and effect. 

b. This connection between cause and effect, which is given as a con- 
tingent and individual fact in the consciousness, is seen by the Reason 
to be a necessary and universal fact, necessarily existing in all cases 



376 AUTOLOGY. 

of cause aud effect ; and thus it is formed into a universal and neces- 
sary idea. 

14. The Idea of the Necessary Identity of Cause and Effect. 

a. The fourteenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of the vital 
and dynamical identity of cause and effect ; that is, not that they are 
one in form, but they are essentially one and the same thing as being 
each the converse of the other. 

b. This fact, so distinct in consciousness, the Reason transforms by 
delimitation of contingency and individuality into a necessary and univer- 
sal idea of the essential identity of cause and effect. These facts all 
grow out of the very nature of cause and effect ; and the Reason sees 
them to be necessary and universal ideas. 

15. The Idea of Motion. 

a. The next fact noted by the Consciousness is that of Motion. The 
essential activity and all the working of cause are facts of motion or 
change. 

b. Change in form, as well as change in place, is motion ; hence all 
development of the elements or faculties of the mind is motion. Fer- 
mentation and crystallization are motion as much as the running of 
water ; so also is all growth and decay motion. 

c. Motion may occur in a place, as well as to and from a place, 
in a change of elements and of form, as well as in a change of position 
or location ; and from these facts the Reason forms the necessary and 
universal ideas of motion, and of all things as in motion. 

16. The Idea of Number. 

a. Number is the noting of motions or of individuals ; and each 
motion is an individual. We are conscious of number in the discerning 
and developing of the elements of the mind. We are conscious of the 
two primordial elements of the mind at the first, and then of each dis- 
tinctly, and of each of the succeeding three, making five. We are also 
conscious of the successive development of the qualities which inhere 
in the Will as their centre ; viz. t affections, intellect, and conscience. 

b. And thus number, as well as motion, is an original fact in the 
consciousness, and from it the Reason forms by delimitation the neces- 
sary and universal idea of number, as the computation of the units in a 
multitude, or the parts in a whole. 

17. The Idea of Time. 

a. The seventeenth fact of Consciousness which we note is that of 
time. Time as a fact is given in the successive consciousnesses of 



THE INTELLECT. &i1 

the developing elements and qualities of the mind, and also in the suc- 
cessions of cause and effect. 

• b. Time is thus the beginning, progress, and end of events. Time 
both begins, separates, and encloses a succession of events. It is known 
in consciousness with the events which fill it, and which it separates. 
There is no such thing as time which is not related to events ; it is 
either the space that encloses, or the space that separates events, and 
has no being, except with the events that it thus encloses or separates. 

c. It is purely a relation, like the hollow between two hills, which 
exists because they exist, and by means of their existence. Time en- 
closes the successive movements of the subjective experiences of the 
soul in thoughts and feelings, aud the motions of nature without. 

d. The measure, or notation, of time is, however, always taken from 
some external object, as the motions of the sun, moon, and .stars : by 
these all other movements, whether in the mind or in nature, are noted 
and measured. 

e. The true idea of time is, therefore, this ; viz., the beginning, prog- 
ress, and end, the enclosure and the separator of events ; which is pro- 
duced when they are produced, and ceases to exist when they cease to exist. 

/. This idea is formed from the fact of consciousness by delimiting it 
of individuality and contingency, and transfiguring it into a universal 
and necessary idea. 

g. Time is therefore finite, like the events which it begins, separates, 
ends, and encloses. It is just as large or extended, and no larger than 
the series of events which it begins, separates, ends, and encloses. 
Time can never exist without events. There can never be an utterly 
void space of time. There must always be. at least, the beginning and 
ending, the termini of time. 

h. A series of events may be swept away, and the space of ages 
which they occupied be left vacant ; but the events that mark the be- 
ginning and the ending of that space of time must remain, or it will also 
disappear. The error of holding to a void time arises out of confound- 
ing time and space with nothingness, or mere negative possibility. 

i. By nothingness is meant "negative possibility," for they are 
identical. The negative possibility of extending time from a given point 
onw«,rd depends, not on the supposed infiniteness of time, but on the 
negative possibility of projecting, or prolonging, a succession of causes 
indefinitely. 

j. The positive possibility of extending a succession of events in- 
definitely into the future, and thus of extending time, is the force that 
is in the cause of those events ; but the negative possibility is simply 
"the nothing-in-the-way," which makes it negatively possible to exert 
the cause and project the effect indefinitely. 
48 



378 AUTOLOGY. 

k. But this does not prove that time is infinite, but only that the 
nothing that lies beyond the present interposes no obstacle to pro- 
ducing* the future, if the force that produces the present is powerful and 
persistent enough to do so. 

I. This, then, is the true idea of time ; it is that which encloses and 
separates the succession of events. It is produced or created with 
them, and for them, and ceases when they cease. Millions of smaller 
events are measured, as to time, by the sun's yearly circuit ; but when 
these objects cease to be, and the sun which measured their date ceases 
to be, then will the time that began, and measured, separated, ended, 
and enclosed them, cease also ; and the negative possibility of their 
existence would alone remain. 

m. God has his own time in the depths of his own eternity. He 
was alone in the perfect sphere of his own being, with his own time 
and space within himself. There was nothing, literally nothing, outside 
of him ; he was the universe, as to reality, time, and-space ; there was 
not anything above, below, or around him. He then created objects 
and events with the space and time that enclose and separate them, and 
projected them out from himself. 

n. The negative possibility of space was thus occupied with space 
and an object in it ; and the negative possibility of time was occupied 
with time and an event to fill it : and beyond the space and the time 
thus created, and filled with objects and events, there was nothing, liter- 
ally nothing. 

o. It was still negatively possible to create more space and time and 
to fill them with objects and events beyond the space and time already 
created ; but that negative possibility is nothing : it is not space ; it-is 
not time ; it is only the negative possibility that they should be created. 
This negative possibility that time and space should be created is no 
more a something before time and space are created, than are the 
events which fill time, and the objects that fill space, something before 
they are created. 

p. Time and space are necessarily created simultaneously. The first 
event in time is always the creation of an object in space ; and the cre- 
ation of an object in space is an event of time. When God created 
and threw out the first object, he created an event, and that event -was 
the starting-point of time. Logically, an object would seem to come 
first, before an event, and space before time ; yet the creation of an ob- 
ject is an event. An event cannot be created in the first instance without 
an object, nor an object, without, at the same time, creating an event. 

q. God created thus the beginning of time in the act of creating the 
first object. The motions of that object marked the successive periods 
of time in the world created outside of God ; but God in himself has 



THE INTELLECT. 379 

his own time, as a separate, original, and independent thing ; and he, 
as a free Creator and cause, threw off from himself, by an act of crea- 
tion, the universe with its successions of time : or, as Dr. Nott so 
eloquently expresses it, "God, from the centre of his own eternity 
threw off this countless train of ages, of which our life is but a single 
point." Some other one has said, " Time is a fragment of eternity cut 
off at both ends." 

18. The Idea of Substance. 

a. The eighteenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of sub- 
stance. The Will, composed of its five elements, essential activity, es- 
sential intelligence, essential self, essential self-law, and essential lib- 
erty, is the actual substance of the mind, in which the qualities of the 
mind, viz., the Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience, inhere. 

b. From this contingent and individual fact the Reason forms the ne- 
cessary and universal idea of substance by delimiting it of its contin- 
gency and individuality. The idea of substance is that it is the essence 
and life of being, and holds all the qualities of being in the unity of a 
common inherence. 

c. It has been shown that the substance may have elements which in- 
here in each other and constitute its being. The substance so composed 
has qualities which inhere in it, but, it does not inhere in its qualities. ' 

d. By this are elements distinguished from qualities ; viz., that they 
inhere in each other, while qualities inhere in a common substance ; and 
by this is a substance distinguished from its elements and from its 
qualities, viz., it is composed of the former, and, when thus composed, 
holds the latter in inherence. 

e. But is not impenetrability essential to the idea of substance, of all 
substance, whether of the mind, or of mere nature, or of force ? It 
must be replied that two souls, each self-conscious, must, of necessity, 
be mutually objective ; and if objective, then mutually impenetrable. 
The self-consciousness of the one must exclude the self-consciousness of 
the other. While one self-consciousness includes and affirms its own 
self-conscious being, it must exclude the self-conscious being of the 
other ; and thus do they stand opposed to, and outside of, each other, 
and are mutually impenetrable ; for they cannot occupy the same point 
in space and time together. 

f. But is the substance of the mind, which we have already seen to 
be the Will, impenetrable when it comes in contact with mere force, or 
nature, called matter ? The reply is, that it must be so or be nothing ; 
for two entities cannot occupy the same space at the same time. 

g. Will it be said that all matter, or nature, or force, as opposed to 
spirit, is so porous as to be transparent or traversable by spirit, as 



380 AUTOLOGY. 

glass is by the rays of light ? We reply, that, still, even these bodies 
%re essentially impenetrable ; for light will not pass through some bodies 
at all ; and with regard to the glass through which it goes, it does not, 
in fact, -go through the glass, but only through the holes or pores in it. 
The glass is essentially and literally impenetrable still. 

h. And so of soul, or spirit ; it may pass through much or all that is 
material, but it will, still, not be through it, but only through holes or 
pores in it. If real force, or matter, or animal life, should come into 
contact with spirit, and if neither should be porous, then would they 
certainly be found to be incapable of both occupying the same space at 
the same time. They would be mutually impenetrable. (See Ideas on 
Impenetrability, Matter, and Spirit.) 

i. It must not, however, be concluded that spirit is material, be- 
cause it is real and not a phantom. It must not be called mere force or 
mere animal life, or mere nature, in any form, because it is impenetrable. 
It is impenetrable because it is an entity, or a something, and not a 
nothing. 

,;'. Spirit is as real as is force, life, or what is called matter. • Spirit 
is as real as body itself, and it does not cease to be spirit because it is 
impenetrable. 

k. Besides, it is not more strange that spirit should be impenetrable 
than that life and force should be impenetrable. They take on body, or 
matter, as we shall see, in the same manner that spirit does-; yet they 
are impenetrable without body. Force, life, and spirit have each 
impenetrability, are each objective and real, but are totally distinct 
in other respects. 

19. The Idea of Quality. 

a. The nineteenth fact given by the Consciousness is that of quality. 
Quality is intimately connected with substance, and almost inseparable 
from it. The one always implies, and always is the converse of the other. 

b. The Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience are qualities 
given by the Consciousness, in the Will as their substance. This fact 
the Reason delimits of contingency and individuality, and transforms 
into the universal idea of quality. 

20. The Idea of the Affections. 

a. The twentieth fact given by the Consciousness is that of the 
Affections, with all their elemental and determinate. forms, as a quality 
of the mind inhering in the Will as substance. 

b. These Affections are involuntary, and are the mind's capability of 
being affected by external influences. And from this fact of the soul's 
susceptibility, given by the Consciousness, the Reason forms the ne- 
cessary and univei'sal idea of susceptibility, or the Affections, as distinct 



THE INTELLECT. 381 

from the Will, and the Conscience and the Intellect, and a distinct 
quality in the human mind. 

c. The Affections are qualities of the mind as a whole, as a complete 
person, and inhering- in the will, which is not the mind, but the sub- 
stance of the mind. These Affections are growths upon the will, where- 
by it, being an activity, becomes also a passivity, or a susceptibility ; 
and being free, takes on an involuntary nature. 

d. These Affections, as we have seen, have two divisions; viz., the 
Indeterminate and the Determinate. The former are the basis of the 
latter, and are as follows : desirefulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, cheer- 
fulness, aspiringness, and reverentialness. These are the distinguish- 
able, yet indeterminate, affections which lie under and diffuse themselves 
through the whole of man's susceptible and emotional nature. 

e. These give rise to six corresponding orders of determinate affec- 
tions ; viz., individual affections, social affections, patriotic affections, 
philanthropic affections, aesthetic affections, and religious affections, 
having each several classes. Now, these are the facts of a complete 
susceptibility furnished by the Consciousness. The Reason takes these 
facts, and forms from them the idea that any complete susceptibility,' or 
affectional nature, must possess these elements ; and thus we have 
the fact and the idea of man's affectional nature. (See Part II.) 

/. Moreover, the facts of the affections in all their classes are the 
ground of categories for knowing homogeneous external objects and 
events. These affections are in the consciousness, and all their action is 
so much of fact in the possession of the consciousness for the formation 
of conceptions, which conceptions are categories with which to cognize 
objects. 

g. The Consciousness presents these affections and the impression 
made on them to the Reason, and it forms from them conceptions of in- 
dividual life, rights, possessions, and pleasures ; of patriotic, philan- 
thropic, aesthetic, and religious objects, duties, and pleasures ; and thus 
is the mind qualified to cognize external objects and events, actions and 
interests, b) r means of those affectional conceptions which constitute a 
class of categories. These categories are, individuality, sociality, pa- 
triotism, philanthropy, aesthetics, and religion. We have here, then, 
our first facts, and first conceptions, and first categories of these affec- 
tions ; and as such, they pass into the qualifications of the mind as a 
part of its power of knowing. 

21. The Idea of the Intellect. 
a. The twenty-first fact given by the Consciousness is that of the Intel- 
lect, with its Consciousness, Reason, and Sense, as a quality of the mind 
inhering in the Will as substance. 



382 AUTOLOGY. 

b. The Intellect is here recognized as a distinct quality of the mind, 
the quality of intelligence and knowingness, in its largest sense. From 
this fact the Reason forms its necessary and universal idea of all intelli- 
gence, and of all rational natures. 

c. Each faculty of the Intellect is also a quality of the mind, and a 
separate fact from which the Reason forms an idea. The Consciousness 
itself, as a fact given by itself, is the basis of a necessary and universal 
idea. So also are the Reason and the Sense ; these all are facts which 
the Reason turns into ideas, and then, with them as categories, cognizes 
external facts. 

22. The Idea of the Conscience and of the Bight. 

a. The twenty-second fact given by the Consciousness is that of the 
Conscience as the last and highest quality of the mind, inhering in the 
Will as the substance of the mind. 

b. This fact gives to the Reason its idea of the right, the ethical, the 
just ; and this is a' necessary and universal idea. The Conscience 
discerns moral differences, and enforces the right and prohibits the 
wrong. 

c. The Reason grasps, delimits, and transforms these facts into the 
necessary and universal idea of the nature and office of the faculty of 
Conscience everywhere. From this also the Reason forms, in like man-' 
ner, the necessary and universal idea of the right and the equitable, as 
distinguished from the wrong. And lastly, from these facts the Reason 
forms its universal and necessary idea of all souls as under obligation to 
know and obey the right. 

23. The Idea of the Vital and Dynamical Connection of Substance and 

Quality. 

a. This connection is a fact given by the Consciousness, and from it 
the Reason forms the necessary and universal idea of the dynamical 
connection of all substance and quality. 

b. The Reason sees that it is essential to the nature of substance and 
quality that they be, as this fact is, dynamically connected. 

24. The Idea of the Vital and Dynamical Identity of Substance and Quality. 

a. This fact of Consciousness is an identity of essence and correlation, 
and not of form. 

b. That all substance implies quality, and all quality a substance ; 
that the quality is the manifestation of the substance, and the substance 
the essential nature of the quality — from these facts the Reason forms its 
idea of the essential identity of all substance and quality ; that they are 
one force, life, and being. 



THE INTELLECT. 383 

25. The Idea of Action and Reaction, or Life-pulse. 

a. This fact given by the Consciousness is the ceaseless pulse-beat of 
the essential activity and essential intelligence after they have ceased 
to form themselves into elements of the Will or qualities of the mind. 

b. When the whole mind is complete in all its elements and qualities, 
still it is active ; and still its spirit, life, and force, are in a perpetual 
action and reaction, like the living ocean. 

c. These elements do not act as cause producing- effect (for all that 
work is done); but are only beating with the action and reaction of their 
essential life. This action and reaction sustains concomitant events. 
The activity and the consciousness act and react upon each other, each 
being actively conscious and consciously active ; and the self thus pro- 
duced by them contains and holds these two live elements in it, acting 
and reacting each with the other, and each in turn giving place to each, 
producing and sustaining the self as one live whole ; the activity going 
into consciousness, and the consciousness going into activity, and both 
uniting to form one self, which self they sustain by their action and re- 
action. They act as causes in producing the self, but in sustaining it they 
have only, reciprocal action. This action and reaction is only the pulse 
and heart-beat of nature, by which life hoth is and is sustained ; it is the 
principle of life, or activity in nature. 

d. Now, the. Reason takes this fact here given, and from it forms the 
idea of action and reaction as the condition of all being, by which it is and 
is sustained. We have here, then, our first fact, and our first idea, of 
actipn and reaction as a category of being. 

26. The Idea of the Vital, Dynamical, and Perpetual Indentity of the liv- 
ing Soul of Man through all the Periods of his Existence. 

a. The fact given by the Consciousness, which is the basis of this 
idea, is that of the perpetual action and reaction of the two elements of 
essential activity and essential intelligence. This unceasing action . and 
reaction it is that constitutes the life, and preserves the identity of the 
soul so long as that life lasts. 

b. This action and reaction is the exercise that gives perpetual con- 
sciousness, and the consciousness of perpetual life and perpetual iden- 
tity ; and from this fact the Reason forms its necessary and universal idea 
of the perpetual identity of the me, the ego, or the soul, through all 
the periods of its existence. 

21. The Idea of Perpetual Reknowing, or Remembering, 
a. The fact of perpetual reknowing, or knowing that we know, is 
given by the Consciousness in the perpetual action and reaction of the 



384 • AUTOLOGY. 

essential activity and essential intelligence which give the ceaseless suc- 
cession of consciousnesses by which we know that we knew. 

b. The action and reaction, in keeping up the perpetual succession of 
consciousnesses, keeps alive the consciousness of the mind's perpetual 
identity ; and this same chain of consciousnesses that preserves identity 
is the chain of memory. 

c. By it the fact that we knew is ever held in present consciousness ; 
and on this fact of Consciousness the Reason forms its idea of reknow- 
ing, or of knowing that it knew, which is remembering. With this idea 
always in possession, the Reason, as we shall hereafter see, remembers ; 
that is, knows that it knew, or cognizes that it cognized. 

28. The Idea of Free Cause. 

a. The twenty-eighth fact of Consciousness is that of free cause. This 
fact is constituted by the combined elements that form the free will, 
and the faculties that complete it, into a personality. This is the only 
fact in which we have experience of a free clause ; and from this fact of 
a free, affectional, rational, and ethical person, the Reaspn forms, by de- 
limitation and transfiguration, the necessary and universal idea of a free 
cause. 

b. Spirit alone is free cause ;. life and force are necessary causes. A 
free cause differs from a necessary cause in that it is free, while a neces- 
sary cause is bound. A free cause has its own momentum, and its own 
end of action, and its own liberty, in itself; and exercises its own 
momentum according to its own law, or forbears to exercise it : it causes 
or it forbears to cause ; it wills and it nills, and thus acts in freedom ; 
while a necessary cause must always cause, and can never forbear to 
cause while it exists. 

c. A free cause is a free will, and a free will can choose, or refuse, or 
do neither. In the first case, it chooses an object; in the second, it 
chooses not to choose it; and in the third case, it chooses neither to 
choose the object nor not to choose it, but to be free ; while a necessary 
cause can do but one thing; viz., to cause its effect, and ever that one 
same effect. 

d. If it be said that a necessary cause has its impetus and law in 
itself, the reply is, that impetus and law are not two things in a neces- 
sary cause, but the same identical thing ; while jn a free cause they are 
always diverse. Moreover, a free cause has ever freedom for its end, 
or law ; while a necessary cause has necessity for it's end, or law. 

e. From these facts we have the further distinctions, viz., a free 
cause acts always in its own space and time, and projects its effects into a 
space and time which is not its own ; while a necessary cause acts always 
in the same space and time in which its effects are produced and placed. 



THE INTELLECT. 3S5 

f. God, as the great, first, free cause, dwells alone in his own eternity, 
having- his own space and his own time. His perfect being is a perfect 
sphere : his infinity consists in simple perfectness, uncreated and un- 
dying', without beginning and without end. His space and his time are 
both within that sphere. His eternity and his infinity, which are his 
uncreatedness and his perfectness, and in which he is self-existent and 
imperishable, constitute and fill the sphere of his space and time. 

g. Outside of God's sphere, — for the infiniteness of his sphere of space 
and time consists in its perfectness, and not at all in extent, —outside of 
God's perfect sphere of personal "being is nothingness, i. e., negative possi- 
bility: where this nothingne-ss was, lies God's creation of worlds, with their 
own space and time created with them, beginning where they begin, and 
ending where they end, being surrounded with nothingness on all sides. 

h. Thus God, as free cause, stands outside of the space which he 
creates for worlds to fill and move in, and outside of the time which be 
creates with the events that fill it, and projects them into being where 
only negative possibility was before, to hold a positive being there until 
he shall annihilate them. Thus God as a free cause can create a space, 
and begin a time, and fill them with objects and events, and give being 
where was nothingness before, and bring them to an end again. 

i. And this is the nature of free cause as opposed to necessary 
cause ; it stands outside of the time and space into which it projects its 
effects, and hence can begin a space, and can begin a time, and can 
begin the objects that fill them ; while a necessary cause must always 
both be, and act, and produce its effects, within the same space and 
time in which the effects exist ; and hence a necessary cause can never 
begin anything, but is itself a part of the effect which it produces, as it 
is a part of the space and the time in which it acts. 

j. A necessary cause is thus ever a part of natui'e, is nature, and its 
effects are nature ; and all, both the cause and the effect, and the space 
and the time in which they are produced, are one undivided and one neces- 
sary and unbroken whole of nature ; while a free cause is ever out of na- 
tivre, and no part of nature, and neither in its action nor being, in nature. 

k. But, it will be asked, is not man in the midst of nature, and sub- 
ject to nature? Yes, man, by means of his body, is in nature, and 
located in the midst of her powers and works ; but man'.s free will acts 
by itself, out of nature, and out of nature's space and time. 

I. " The mind is its own place ; " but it projects the effects which it 
causes into nature, and within nature's space and time. Every human 
soul, though by means of the body bound to nature and nature's space 
and time, has yet, as God has, and all free causes must have, a space 
and time of its own, from which it projects its effects into the space and 
time of nature, or of eternity, wherever it may be. 
49 



386 • AUTOLOGY. 

m. The question may further be raised, Are not cause and effect 
dynamically connected and identical, as already shown in the preced- 
ing categories ? Yes, lfecessary cause arid effect are thus connected and 
identical ; the effect is but the reverse, or manifestation of the cause, 
and they are necessarily and inseparably connected and identical. 
" n. So also are a free cause and its effects vitally and dynamically 
connected, and so also are they identical ; i. e., the effect is the. true 
and real manifestation of the cause. But while the connection between 
free cause and effect is thus vital and dynamical, it is yet free ; it is not 
a necessary nor an inevitable connection. 

o. A free cause may forbear to cause ; it may cause or refuse to 
cause, or refuse both these acts, and remain free from each. But when it 
does produce an effect, that effect is a manifestation of the free cause, 
and in the image of the free cause ; in so far as the free cause is exer- 
cised. God, as a free cause, created man in his own image. Human 
beings., as free causes, become parents. Man", as a free cause, constructs 
a house, a machine, a watch, a canal, a railroad, a school, a church, a 
government, a treatise, a science, a philosophy ; and the thing he thus 
causes is, in a greater or less degree, according to its nature a manifes- 
tation of himself, and in its conception, design, or mechanism, in his 
image, and identical with him ; so that a free effect is as certain a proof 
of its cause as is a necessary effect. 

p. A free cause may cause many things which a necessary cause 
may also do ; but the stamp of the free cause will be in the time, place, 
or mode. Seed may be blown by the wind, and carried by a bird to fall 
into the soil ; but man may plough, and then sow with his own hand, and 
with intent in his chosen field, the same seed ; and in these particulars he 
appears as a free cause, while the wind and the bird are necessary causes. 

q. Thus man, as free cause, energizes in his own free will, out of 
nature, and in his own free soul's space and time ; but he, by his con- 
nection with the body, carries out his designs, and projects his effects, into 
nature, or the region of necessary cause, to be, more or less, subject to 
its laws. The space and time of nature are begun, and filled, and ended, 
by nature's causes and effects. 

r. Man's body comes within the space and time thus begun, filled, 
and ended, by nature's necessary causes. Man's free will can, to some 
extent, resist and overcome nature's necessary causes ; can often use 
them, change them, combine them, sever them, and in all this show his 
power. Man thus, as a free cause, rises above nature's necessary 
causes, and their space and time, and exercises his own free power in 
his own space and time ; yet is ever, more or less, while he lives in this 
world, under the limitation of nature's necessary causes, and. the space 
and time in which they act. 



THE INTELLECT. 381 

29. The Idea of Final Cause. 

a. The twenty-ninth fact which we have noted as given by the 
Consciousness is that of final cause. This fact is found in the free and 
rational action of man, in which he chooses his end of action and accom- 
plishes it. It is also found in the fact of man's own conviction that he 
himself was made for a designed end. 

b. The fact of final -cause given by the Consciousness, the Reason 
delimits of contingency and personality, and transforms into the neces- 
sary and universal idea of final cause, as the divine stamp and sign 
manual of a free, afifectional, rational, ethical, and personal Creator of 
the universe and of man, and the beneficent and almighty God, blessed 
forever. 

30. The Idea of a complete Personality. 

a. The next fact of Consciousness noted is that of complete person- 
ality. The whole nature and formation of this fact have repeatedly been 
given. The two primordial elements of essential activity and essential 
intelligence in the first instance form a self; the self then takes on self- 
law and liberty, and becomes the Will. This will, then, as substance 
of the mind, develops qualities ; first, affections ; second, intellect ; and 

i third, conscience ; and this forms a complete and perfect personality. 

b. 'Free will, affections, intellect, conscience, — these are necessary and 
universal elements of personality; and from this fact the Reason forms its 
universal and necessary idea of all personality, whether human or divine. 

c. The difference between nature and personality is here obvious. 
Nature can never have the principle of life, to say nothing of free will, 
reason, and conscience. Nature is force, and only force ; and that, 
necessarily and forever. 

d. The difference between animal life and personality is also obvious ; 
for animal life can never have free will, reason, and conscience. They 
are not in its elements, and can never come out in its developments, 
or in its education. Animal being is merely animal life \ it has nothing 
more in its nature, and can n.ever be more than that. Man's spirit is 
of altogether another essence. The essence of man has free will, reason, 
and conscience in it ; and hence it can develop into a person. 

e. It will be observed that the differences between finite and infinite 
personality appear not in any comparative difference in degree, but in 
the absolute difference in kind ; viz. : — 

First. Both finite and infinite personality have existence, but infinite 
personality has self-existence, while finite personality has only a created 
existence. 

Second. Both finite and infinite personality have power to originate 
or begin things or events, but the infinite personality can begin being or 



388 AUTOLOGY. 

originate existence itself; i. e., it can create ; while finite personality 
can only originate or begin changes, movements, and combinations of 
being and forces already in existence. 

Third. Both finite and infinite personality have liberty, i. e., free 
will, or liberty to choose f/eety. But the infinite personality has power 
to execute and accomplish that which it chooses.; while the finite person- 
ality has liberty to choose, but in many cases has not power tu execute ; 
it has simply liberty of choice, and not power to perform. 

Fourth. Thus while the difference between human and divine person- 
ality is generic as to the materials, God being uncreated spirit, while 
man is created, yet the essential elements of personality must be the 
same everywhere. Nevertheless, the difference must always appear in 
this, — that God is perfect in all his elements, and in his complete person, 
while man is imperfect. God is infinite, while man is finite. 

31. The Idea of Object or Quantity. 

a. The next fact observed is that of quantity or object. This fact is 
given in the act of self-consciousness by which the self, or ego, is affirmed 
as a positive quantity. 

b. The Consciousness. embraces and permeates the self in its intelli- 
gence, and then affirms its positive being. The Consciousness also 
separates that self which it embraces from that which it does not em- 
brace ; and the acts of including and excluding give respectively the 
being of self and of not-self. 

c. The self is thus affirmed as an object ; the not-self is affirmed as an 
object; the former by embracing, the latter by colliding. They stand 
opposed to each other. The self is an object or quantity positively 
affirmed; the not-self is an object 'negatively affirmed. The self fills a 
space ; the not-self is separated from it by a space. The self is thus an 
Object to itself. 

d. And from this fact the Reason forms its idea of quantity or object, 
as an entity, having real and positive being, and filling a space ; and 
also the idea that all being must- have quantity ; that is, occupy space, 
and have, of course, impenetrability. It is true of the mind as well as 
of matter, that it has quantity and fills space ; for two minds, each self- 
conscious, occupy position in relation to each other ; and if position, then 
space ; and as much so as do two bodies ; and they cannot both occupy 
the same space at the same time. 

32. The Idea of Whole and Part. 

a. The thirty-second fact which we note is that of whole and part. 
It comes into consciousness in the development and construction of the 



THE INTELLECT. . 389 

self, the will, and the person. It ^is the conscious proceeding from a 
unit to "an addition, and thence on to a completion of the object, usually 
denominated unity, plurality, totality. 

b. On this is based the simple judgment or idea of whole and part, 
or the whole as greater than its part ; for that is the point of discrimi- 
nation between them. 

33. The Idea of Measure. 

a. The fact of measure comes into the consciousness in the act of 
completing a whole by the addition of its parts, and by comparison 
of a part, as unity, with the whole, as a totalit} 7 . 

b. Measure is the- comparison of quantities, while number is the 
marking of events. These events may be the number of applied meas- 
urements, and thus measure and number are. both employed in dealing 
with quantity. Number, however, belongs rather to time, and measure 
to space ; but each one is sometimes employed in ascertaing the other. 

c. From the above fact of Consciousness, by which the self and per- 
son are developed, part by part, until completed into a whole, and the 
whole is compared with its part, does the Reason form the idea of 
measure. 

34. The Idea of Space. 
A. a. The thirty-fourth fact noted as given by the Consciousness is 
that of space. Space is the consciousness of extension, and is given in 
the formation of the self and will, as they are developed, by their suc- 
cessive elements. The self and will thus formed is affirmed by self- 
consciousness, as an individuality, positive, and real, and distinct. 

b. This consciousness of positive, real, developed, and completed be- 
ing is the consciousness of extension, and extension is space. So also 
when the Consciousness comes to the limits of the self, it thereby and then 
separates the self from the not-self ; and this separating is a spacing ; 
and here the Consciousness gives the fact of space as a particular fact. 

c. But the Reason takes that 1 fact and delimits it, and makes it uni- 
versal and necessary as the condition of the existence of all objects. 
An object fills space, is made. up of space ; then it is enclosed by space; 
then space goes before it, and. comes after it, and is on each side of it 
all around ; and this space encloses the whole. Space is thus a measure 
of the finite, and is created when any object is created, and encloses it, 
as a sphere, on all sides. It is a limitation which the infinite sets up as 
the bound of the finite ; it is no part of the infinite, but is entirely 
finite. 

d. It may here be added, as a more specific definition, that space is 
an area, created in the midst of nothingness by the power of God, of so 
rare a nature that other objects may be placed inside of it. Space is 



390 AUTOLOGY. 

itself an object which is surrounded by nothingness, while the objects 
which are in space are surrounded by space. Space is the rare medium, 
like an atmosphere, which surrounds and separates objects in nature. 

e. Gravitation, when considered as a force separate from objects, is 
called a space, filling force. Space is surrounded by nothingness, and is 
often confounded with it. But space is not nothingness, but is as an isl- 
and in the sea of nothingness ; or, rather, as a ship. Space, consequently, 
is finite and limited, was created, and may be annihilated. 

f. The almost universal error of philosophy is the confounding of 
space with nothingness, and then making it infinite. This last is a 
double mistake ; for space is in its nature measurable, but the infinite 
is not measurable, because the very nature of the infinite is that it is 
incomparable, unapproachable, and hence incompatible with any meas- 
ure ; and as for nothingness, it is immeasurable because it is nothing, 
and not because it is infinite : the infinite is positive, not negative. 

g. The error of confounding space with nothingness is inveterate and 
almost incorrigible. Men, learned and ignorant, persist in calling the 
negative possibility of projecting space and the objects that fill it indefi- 
nitely into being, where nothingness was before, space ; and still worse, 
they persist in calling it infinite space, when it is not space at all, but 
simply the negative possibility of the existence of space. 

h. It is not positive possibility; for that is a force capable of pro- 
ducing the thing which is possible ; but negative possibility is simply 
" nothing in the way," and that is nothingness — the nothingness which 
almost the whole world persist in calling infinite and empty space. 

i. God was originally in the midst of this " negative possibility " of 
creating the universe, and space to hold it. His own almightiness was 
the positive possibility. He did create space, and project it into the 
nothingness outside of himself, and fill it with the worlds, upon one 
of which, at least, he also created men, and animals, and plants. 

j. Thus God was originally in his own space, and that space of his 
own was the whole universe ; for mere nothingness was outside of it. 
From this central space God created, and threw off from himself into 
the nothingness outside of him, the space and the worlds of the universe. 

k. God's being and God's space are a perfect sphere in the midst of 
nothingness ; their infiniteness consists in their perfectness, not in their 
extent ; and his being and space are distinct from all other being and 
all other space. 

I. The original, necessary, and universal idea of space formed from 
the fact of space given in consciousness, by delimiting it of contingency 
and individuality, and by transformation, is that it is the necessary con- 
dition of the existence of all objects but itself. It contains every 
other thing that is created, but is itself contained by nothing, and is 



THE INTELLECT. 391 

literally an area in the midst of nothing. It is itself a created object 
produced where nothingness or negative possibility was before. 

m. God's space consists simply of the reality of God's being, and is 
uncreated as God's being is uncreated ; just as God's time consists 
simply of the reality of God's life, his living mental operations ; but 
the space which the worlds occupy is created space, and is no part 
of the space which God's person is and fills. In fact, the space and 
time of God are simply his existence as a living being. Before he 
created, God was literally everything — space, time, and all. 

n. Created space and time are simply the containers of created ob- 
jects and events, and live and die with them. 

B. Relation of Space and Time. 

1. a. Neither space nor time must, therefore, be confounded with 
the negative possibility of their existence. The positive possibility of 
the existence of space and time is the power of God, who created 
them when he created the objects and events which fill them. The neg- 
ative possibility of their existence is simply the nothing in the way 
which could prevent the energy of God from producing them by an act 
of creation. 

&.„ Space and time are created by the fiat of Jehovah when he created 
the objects and events that fill them : hence the error of confounding 
space and time with the negative possibility that does not hinder their 
being created ; for that negative possibility is nothing, while space and 
time are something. This negative possibility of the existence of space 
and time is perpetually mistaken for space and time themselves. 

2. Space and Time are not self -existent. 

a. Neither is the nothingness, or negative possibility, self-existent ; 
for it is nothing, and nothing is nothing ; it does not exist ; it is merely 
the negation of something. Neither is nothing created : that would be 
a self-contradiction. Nothing is nothing-, and can neither be created nor 
be self-existent ; nor is it existible, for it is nothingness. 

b. Empty space is something ; empty time is something ; but the 
negative possibility of their being created by the power of God, which 
is their positive possibility, is nothing. Objects are created in space, 
which is itself an object ; and the events that begin and end time are 
created in time, whose beginning, and lapse, and end are themselves 
events. Space and time are, therefore, not self-existent, but created ; not 
infinite, but finite. They are created simultaneously. To create is an. 
event ; to attempt to create is an event ; therefore the creation of an 
object and the creation of an event are simultaneous. 

c. Yet events may be produced by the change of objects after they 



392 AUTOLOGY. 

are created. All objects imply events ; all events imply objects, or the 
change of objects. Created space and time have their cause or Creator 
in God; they have their being outside of God, where, before, nothing 
existed. They are separate from God's original space and time, and be- 
gin and end by themselves. 

3. Space and Time have 'the same measure, motion, and number, appli- 
cable to each. 

a. Space is measured by the comparison of its objects as to extent, 
after assuming some one of them as a standard. The application of 
this standard is by motion ; these motions are summed up hy numbers. 

b. So time is measured by the motion- of some object through space. 
The standard is a certain motion over a certain space, and these motions 
are summed up by number ; thus space and time have material measure- 
ments. 

C. God's Space and Time. 

a. God, alone in the midst of nothingness, was himself everything; 
all space and time were in him alone, and identical with his being. With 
the perfect sphere of his own perfect being he had space, because he had 
reality ; but it was not an appreciable space, because there was nothing 
to measure it by ; and he therefore had virtually no space, because his 
space and being are identical. 

b. So God's time, as he exists alone in his own uncreated eternity, 
without beginning, without end, had no measurement outside of himself, 
and consequently he had, virtually, no time ; for his time and being are 
identical. His thoughts had each separate individuality and relations, 
but not the successions of created time. They have succession only in 
relation to. the creatures which he has made, and that only since they 
were made. 

c. God has neither position in relation to space, nor date as to time ; 
for space and time are finite things, which he created, and which lie out- 
side of him, and have no relation to space and time in him, but are 
altogether outside of him, in a space and time of their own, which they 
fill, which began with them, and will cease with them ; while God, in his 
own perfect sphere of space and time, lives on, as before the worlds 
were made. 

d. Space and time are therefore finite, having been created where 
nothingness was before ;. and they might be annihilated with all they 
contain, and leave nothing behind but God — an infinitely perfect sphere 
of being, uncreated and imperishable. As he was alone in the midst of 
nothingness before he created the universe, so would he be alone in the 
midst of nothingness again, should the universe be annihilated. 



'THE INTELLECT. 393 

e. Care should here be taken that' the nothingness in the midst of 
which God exists be not construed into a something ; for it is nothing, 
and God is in reality all in all, and literally alone ; he is the universe 
until he creates something else outside of himself. That which is out; 
side of God before he creates is simply negative possibility, and not 
space ; it is only the negative possibility that space should be created.' 

f. So of time : God, before he created time, was his own time. He 
was, and had, all duration within himself. Outside of him was no empty 
time to be filled up with events, nor empty space to be filled with objects ; 
but there was simply the negative possibility of creating time and space; 
and these he did create when he created the events and objects which 
fill them, and which they surround and separate. 

g. When God was alone, before he created, there was literally not 
anything besides him. lie was literally all reality, all the reality which 
existed ; he was all the space, and all the time, and all the reality, of 
any kind, which existed. Within God, was the positive, and efficient 
possibility of creating the universe of worlds, with the space and the 
time which they fill, and which enclose and separate them. Outside of 
God, was simply the negative possibility that the universe and the world 
might be created. 

h. There was nothing in the way, and God did create the universe 
and the world, with all their space and time, and project them from his 
own omnipotent and creative being into the negative possibility or noth- 
ingness outside of him, thereby creating space, and creating time, and 
creating objects and events to fill them, where utter nothingness was 
before. 

i. Thus are space and time not self-existent, but created ; not in- 
finite, but finite. God alone is perfect, and is alone infinite in that he is 
perfect. His perfectness is a sphere, and not a magnitude ; i. e., his 
infiniteness consists in •his perfectness, and not in his extension 'or dura- 
tion. The former alone is infinite, the latter is finite. Extension may 
be endlessly extended as to magnitude, duration, power, or anything 
else, and that is only the finite, however much extended. But the per- 
fect is absolute, absolutely infinite, and- infinitely absolute ; and that is 
God's infiniteness and absoluteness. 

j. To assume that space and time are self-existent and infinite is not 
only to commit the absurdity of calling nothing something, — and an in- 
finite something at that, — but it is to lay the foundation of materialism 
and of atheism ; for if anything besides God can be self-existent, then 
everything besides God may be self-existent also ; and if all things are 
self-existent, then there is, as some scientists dare to say, "no use for a 
God " to create them, and consequently no God at ajl. 



394 AUTOLOGY. ' 

35. The Idea of Impenetrability. 

a. The fact of Consciousness from which this idea is formed is that .of 
impenetrability. This fact is simply that, in any object or entity, which 
makes it impossible that any other object or entity should occupy the 
same space which it occupies, at the same time. This fact is given by 
the Consciousness when it gives the self and will as ego ; for it here 
affirms extension and reality ; and in embracing the self within self-con- 
sciousness it excludes the not-self, and thus has the fact of space, and 
space occupied by self. This gives the consciousness of impenetrability. 

b. This fact the Reason grasps, delimits of contingency and in- 
dividuality, and transforms into the necessary and universal idea of im- 
penetrability as an essential property in all entities. The Reason sees 
that that is not an entity which has not ultimate impenetrability, or in- 
compressibility. 

c. Two entities may be mutually porous, and thus come into near 
identity of place and time ; but the essential parts of each entity are 
not, and cannot be, porous ; so that they must, if entities at all, be im- 
penetrable still. Light and glass are mutually porous, but they both, in 
their real particles, are impenetrable ; and so must all entities, whether 
of spirit, or animal life, or mere nature's force, be. 

d. Two spirits cannot occupy the same space at the same time ; the 
self-consciousness of the one will include itself, and exclude "the other ; 
and just so must it do in relation to mere life, or force, or any object, or 
entity, in nature. Spirit may inhabit body or pass through any material 
substance, as light passes through glass ; yet, when reduced to their 
ultimate elements, spirit is an entity, as well as nature or any of her 
forces, and must, like material entities, have impenetrability. 

36. The Idea of Spirit. 

a. The next fact here treated as given by the Consciousness is that 
of spirit. Spirit is 'the human mind made up of its own peculiar and 
sui generis elements, essential activity, essential intelligence, essential 
self, essential self-law, essential liberty ; all combining to produce essen- 
tial free will. Then this essential free will, as substance, developing 
further into the qualities of affections, intellect, and conscience, com- 
pletes itself into a personality. 

b. This is the fact of spirit. And this fact of spirit, with all the facts 
and elements before given, and more belonging to it, the Reason, by de- 
limiting the contingent and individual, transforms into the necessary and 
universal idea of spirit. All spirits must have these elements ; and these 
elements, wherever found so combined, constitute a spirit. This is the 
essential, necessary, and universal idea of spirit. 



THE INTELLECT. 395 

c. Life differs from force in that it has intelligence as well as activity, 
forming a living- self. Spirit differs from both in that it has not only 
activity, intelligence, and self, but such an activity and intelligence as 
develop, not only a self, but self-law, liberty, free will, affections, reason, 
conscience, and personalit} 7 . 

31. The Idea of Life. 

a. The thirty-seventh fact of Consciousness which we have named is 
that of life. Life is here set in contradistinction from spirit on the one 
hand, and from mere force on the other. It is less than spirit ; it is 
more than force. Spirit comprehends life and force in itself, while life 
has no spirit, but has force. 

b. The fact of life is the first given by Consciousness in the essential 
activity ; however, it comes into full consciousness when the essential 
activity and the essential intelligence combine and give the self, or' ego ; 
then is the consciousness of a living self first fully felt. 

c. Life is distinguished from force >in that it has life and conscious- 
ness. Life is distinguished from spirit in that, while it has essential 
activity and intelligence combining in a self, its development stops there ; 
and it has no will, no affections, no conscience. 

d. For will, it. has only a self; for affections, it has, simply, self-pre- 
servative propensities, defensive dispositions, parentive feelings, and 
bodily sensibilities ; for intellect, it has only the senses joined with a 
sensuous consciousness ; and for- conscience, it has nothing, save, in 
some brutes, a selfish and appetitive regard for approval and disap- 
proval. 

e. From the consciousness of the essential activity and the essential 
intelligence giving the living self, the Reason, by delimiting and trans- 
forming, forms the necessary and universal idea of life ; mere life, in the 
first instance, as distinguished from the human soul ; and life on the 
other hand, as distinguished from mere force. A mere life can never 
have will, intellect, and conscience, but must always remain life ; so can 
mere force never become life, but must always remain unconscious and 
inanimate force. 

38. The Idea of Force. 

a. The thirty-eighth fact noted was force. The fact of force is de- 
rived from the original and essential activity and intelligence as they 
energize by necessary causation, and produce the self. From this fact 
the Reason, by the delimitation of contingency and individuality, and by 
transmutation, forms the necessary and universal idea of force as the 
great power of nature, by which all her inanimate operations are 
carried out. 



396 AUTOLOGY. 

b. Gravitation is the great central force. There are also chemical, 
mineral, crystalline, and vegetable forces, forces of attraction and re- 
pulsion ; all either formative or operative ; and these constitute nature 
and a nature of things. 

c. Force is distinguished from life in that it has simple activity, and 
not intelligence. It has only one of the original and primordial elements 
of being, while lii'e has both combined in a living self. Mere force can 
never rise to life. Force rules in nature. 

d. We have already given the facts of inanimate, unintelligent, and 
involuntary nature, i. e., a nature of things ; viz., cause and effect, 
time, quantity, space, action and reaction, substance and quality, and 
the three modes — possible, actual, and necessary. Now, these are the 
facts in a nature of things, in the most of which force rules. The Con- 
sciousness gives these facts as a nature of things all instinct with force, 
and the Reason sees that not only the nature of things here given must 
have the element of force, but that force, mere force, necessarily and 
universally reigns in a nature of things everywhere ; and thus we have 
both the idea and the fact of force in a nature of things. 

39. The Idea of Matter. 

a. The next fact which we have noted as given by the Consciousness 
is that of matter. Matter is the form of any entity ; either force, life, 
or spirit, which as object, or quality, or body, occupies space, and has, 
of course, impenetrability. The mind' is thus conscious of form, body, 
or bulk. Indeed, it is difficult to divest the mind of the consciousness of 
having some form ; and in truth, it ever, of necessity, has some form of 
being, or body, either earthly or spiritual. 

b. The first consciousness of body arises from the consciousness of 
being an object occupying space, and being impenetrable. This con- 
sciousness is completed in the actual possession of a human body ; so 
that matter, or form, lies in the very nature of objectivity, and belongs 
to all objects — to spirit, to life, and to mere force ; and in each of them 
it is the same ; viz., it is that objective and impenetrable body and form 
in which force, life, and spirit are clothed, and under and through which 
they operate. 

c. Matter is that, from centre to circumference, which makes any 
entity occupy space and time ; but it is more particularly the body to 
the soul, the body to the life, the body in which a foi-ce acts ; as the 
wire to electricity, the needle to magnetism, and the pole star to attrac- 
tion. Thus matter belongs to everything ; for everything has a body ; 
the soul has both an earthy and a spiritual body. 

d. This fact of consciousness, giving matter as the impenetrable and 
objective body and form of spirit, life, and force, the Reason grasps, 



THE INTELLECT. 397 

delimits of the contingency and individuality, and transmutes into a 
necessary and universal idea of all matter. 

40. The Idea of the Mode of Being. 

a. The fortieth fact observed is that of the mode of being. The 
fact of being is one thing, the mode of being is another ; yet whatever 
exists must exist in some mode; viz., quality as a mode of substance, 
and effect as a mode of cause ; and solid, liquid, and gaseous are modes 
of the existence of certain substances. 

b. Modes are found also in the state or condition of the mind, as 
cheerful or sad, sober or frivolous ; so also, according to the theory of 
some, the mind is sometimes said to exist in the mode of will, of affec- 
tions, and of conscience. These, however, are specific modes of indi- 
vidual beings. The more comprehensive modes are those of the actual, 
the possible, and the necessary. From all these the Reason forms the 
idea of mode in general. 

41. The Idea of the Actual. 

a. The forty-first fact here noted is the actual. Any fact of con- 
sciousness gives us the actual, and anything which is given in conscious- 
ness is actual ; and this is, at once, the fact and the idea of the actual. 

b. The Consciousness gives the self, the ego, as a real existence held 
in the embrace of its own intelligence. The reality and impenetrability 
of the self is as certainly affirmed by the Consciousness when it em- 
braces an object within itself, as when it collides with an object in open 
objectivity ; and especially when the Consciousness takes cognizance 
of itself, and is not only conscious, but conscious that it is conscious, 
and thus affirms both self and self-consciousness ; then does it not only 
affirm a reality, but its knowing is absolute ; for the knower and the 
known are identical. The actual, is, therefore, known by the highest 
possible evidence. 

c. Says Kant, " That which coheres with the material conditions of 
experience (i. e., sensations), is real." But here we see that Conscious-, 
ness itself gives the real with a certainty which the sense can never 
reach. Consciousness is the only faculty that can begin to know, and 
gives us the first reality ; yet is it true that reality coheres with the 

■ conditions of sensuous experience. 

42. The Idea of the Possible. 
a. The forty-second fact of the Consciousness which we have noted 
is that of the possible. The fact of the. actual and the idea of the ac- 
tual we have already given ; but the actual always has in itself the sole 
conditions of the possible. Any fact of consciousness, therefore, gives 



398 AUTOLOGY. 

and controls the existence of the possible ; for that alone is possible 
which conforms to the conditions of the actual ; i. e., that which con- 
forms to the relations of the constituents of being; to being, is possible ; 
to wit : a free will exists ; therefore the choice of anything compatible 
with its nature is possible. So also the elements of nature exist ; there- 
fore all products compatible with them are possible. 

b. Thus says Kant : " That which accords with the formal conditions 
of experience (i. e., according to intuition and conceptions) is possi- 
ble." But the possible is either positive or negative. Negative possi- 
bility is simply " nothing in the way ; " while positive possibility is the 
power to achieve and produce the possible, and to make it actual. 

c. A negative possibility can never be a subject of experience, or 
come into consciousness, as it is in fact nothing ; but a positive possi- 
bility is a something ; it is an actual and effective force, and may with 
its operations be a subject of consciousness and of experience. 

d. The fact of free will is a fact of positive possibility. It is the 
power to choose without limit ; it is the fact of all possible choice, and 
of all choice possible. This possibility is a fact in consciousness ; and 
from this fact the Eeason forms its idea of the possible ; for a power to 
produce is a power to fulfil the conditions of being according to which 
it is possible for anything to exist. 

43. The Idea of the Necessary. 

a. The next fact which we have named is that of the necessary mode 
of being. If we take the fact of the essential activity and the essen- 
tial intelligence, which, as necessary causes, work together in producing 
the self, we have a fact in the self, thus produced, which is a necessary 
result of the working of these causes ; for if these causes exist, then, 
of necessity, must the result exi # st. ' 

b. And thus we have a fact of consciousness, which is a necessary 
fact, and which the Eeason delimits and transforms into a necessary aitd 
universal idea of the necessary mode of being in all cases. 

c. Kant says, "That whose coherence with the real is determined 
according to the general conditions of experience, is, or exists, neces- 
sarily." This is true ; but is it not true that the necessary inheres in 
the very nature of being itself? Is it not true that any fact of 
the actual may not only give the necessary, but must, of necessity, 
give it. - 

d. For the actual must be either self-existent or have a cause. If it 
is self-existent, it has a necessary being ; but if it is not self-existent, 
then it, of necessity, must have a cause ; and so, in either case, the 
actual gives the necessary ; that is, either the self-existence of the ac- 
tual is a fact, and, if a fact, of course a necessary fact, or the existence 



THE INTELLECT. 399 

of the cause of the actual is a fact, and, of course, a necessary fact ; 
and thus the necessary as a fact exists. 

. e. And, furthermore, the existence of the actual, though contingent 
beforehand, yet becomes, after the fact of its existence has come to 
pass, a necessary past existence. That which once has been can never 
cease " to have been." When once a being or an event has existed, 
then the fact that it has existed becomes a necessary, indestructible, 
and eternal fact. 

/. And thus we see that the necessary inheres in the very nature of 
being. Let something once exist, and its having been is as eternal as 
self-existence itself ; and so also is it true that when something exists, 
it must either be self-existent itself, or have, somewhere, a self-existent 
cause ; and hence we have the fact arid the idea, necessary and uni- 
versal, of necessary being. 

44. The Idea of the True. 

a. The forty-fourth fact here noted as given by the Consciousness is 
that of the true as identical with the necessary. The actual is true, 
yet not necessarily truthful ; for it needs only to be, in order to be 
actual ; but the true is not only actual, but true to the nature of things. 
Hence all necessary truths are not only actual, but true, and are facts 
of the true. 

b. There is no such thing as the true apart from an individual fact ; 
hence any necessary cause producing an effect is a fact of the true ; 
any substance having a quality is a fact of the true, so far as the true 
can be a fact ; but the true as such is an idea which the Reason forms 
from these facts. It seizes any necessary fact, and forms from it the 
necessary and universal idea of the necessary and of the true. 

45. The Idea of the Sublime. 

a. The fact of the Consciousness given above from which this idea is 
formed is that of sublimity. The sublime is the enhancement of the ac- 
tual, whether that actual be ordinary, deformed, or beautiful, as to magni- 
tude and power, vastness and force, to the highest degree which the nature 
of the object will admit of. The sublime is the embodiment and ex- 
pression of spirit, life, and force as to power and magnitude, vastness 
and force ; while beauty is the embodiment and expression of spirit, life, 
and force as to symmetry, proportion, and harmony of parts in one whole. 

b. The sublime is the preponderance, overpowering and ascendency, 
of some one^ property or part, which overwhelms us with its vastness 
and force, filling us with awe and fear ; while beauty is the unity and 
harmony of all parts in one complete and perfect whole, which fills us 
with a pleasing admiration. 



400 AUTOLOGY. 

c, The original fact of sublimity lies in the natural aspiringness of 
the soul, as its affections rise from the lowest to the highest, from 
desirefulness to trustfulness, hopefulness, cheerfulness, aspiringness, and 
reverentialness, and then branch out and expand into all the orders of 
determinate affections — the individual, social, patriotic, philanthropic, 
aesthetic, and religious affections. 

d. This original and natural procession of the soul's emotions, rising 
ever, and expanding ever, ascending and augmenting-, — this is the origi- 
nal fact of sublimity which the Reason delimits and transfigures into its 
own necessary and universal idea of the sublime. And it is because the 
affections within us thus rise, and the spirit, life, and force which we are 
thus tend upward and seek augmentation, that we both have the fact, 
and are capable of appreciating the nature, of the sublime. Sublimity is 
the form in which spirit, life, and force express energy, magnitude, 
vastness, and power. 

46. The Idea of the Beautiful. 

a. The forty-sixth fact of the Consciousness, as given in the preced- 
ing chapter, is that of beauty. All beauty lies in form and expression ; 
but that form and expression must be the form and expression of that 
which is good, excellent, and worthy in itself; hence beauty is the 
form that expresses excellence. 

b. The idea of beauty, therefore, is based on the fact assumed that 
all objects are, in their true and better nature, good, excellent, and 
worthy, and, of course, capable of taking on beauty, or a form which .is 
beautiful ; and will, indeed, be beautiful when their true nature is truth- 
fully expressed; but that, now, objects are defective in form, because 
that form expresses their baser, and not their higher, their false, and not 
their true, their defective, and not their complete nature. 

c. The fact is assumed also, that beauty is individual and sui generis, 
and not general or universal ; that it resides in each individual thing, 
and that the beauty of that thing is peculiar to itself ; that beauty is not 
a something which is the same in all things, and which may have a 
separate existence, independent of the individual objects in which it re- 
sides ; and hence the idea of the beauty of any individual object is 
obtained by comprehending the idea of the truer and better nature of 
that object, and then evolving its fitting and perfect form from that idea. 

d. Moreover, beauty is an ideal, and not an idea : rather, the idea 
of beauty is, that it is an ideal, and not simply an idea ; for an idea is 
necessary and universal, while an ideal is individual and su\generis, and 
complete and perfect in its singularity. An idea also may be of spirit, 
life, or force, while an ideal must always be of form ; an idea may be an 
essence, an ideal must always be a phenomenon. 



THE INTELLECT. 401 

e. Hence the true idea of the beauty of any individual object can be 
obtained only by comprehending the idea of the true and better nature 
of that object, and then evolving its complete and perfect form from that 
idea, and according to it. 

/. The idea of beauty, or the beautiful, the Reason forms from the 
fact of the complete personality given by the Consciousness ; hence we 
have the more complete and full definition of beauty in these words ; 
viz., Beauty is the perfectness of form as an embodiment and expression 
of spirit, life, and force. 

g. But while beauty resides ever in the form, still the form must ever 
be instinct with the spirit, life, and force which it embodies. Matter, 
•as we have seen, consists of the objectivity, and impenetrability, and 
form of any entity, whether it be spirit, life, or force. But the form is 
the arrangement of that which is objective and impenetrable in spirit, life, 
and force, so as to express them according to their nature ; and the 
perfectness of that arrangement, as an expression of spirit, life, and force, 
is that in form which we call beauty ; and we call it beauty, because we 
ourselves are of the spirit, the life, and the force, which are so arranged 
and expressed. 

h. Beauty is found in all the forms of nature ; as in hills #nd valleys, 
in streams, and landscapes, and skies. It is also found in animal life, in 
birds and beasts ; as the swan, the eagle, the gazelle, the horse, and the 
leopard. But the highest beauty is found in the human personality, 
and consists in that homogeneous embodiment of the soul, which as to 
form is adapted, as to size is adequate, as to figure is proportionate 
and symmetrical, and as to posture, movement, and bearing is at once 
harmonious and expressive of the living and forceful spirit within. 

i. We are susceptible to such beauty, and appreciate it, because we 
are conscious of being ourselves spirit, and life, and force, yearning for 
adequate expression. That perfectness of form which most completely 
expresses the consciousness of our highest personality — that must ever 
be to us the beautiful, and the standard for all beauty. Hence it is 
true that the Reason takes the completed personality, given as a fact by 
the Consciousness, and delimits and transfigures it into the necessary 
and universal idea of the beautiful. 

47. The Idea of the Deformed and the Ludicrous. 

a. The fact gf Consciousness above noted from which this idea is 
formed is that of deformity and ludicrousness. The deformed and 
ludicrous are the exaggerations of the sublime and the beautiful, espe- 
cially of the former, of which it is proverbial that "there is but a step 
between the sublime and the ridiculous." 

b. As the sublime is given by the homogeneous augmentation of the 

51 



402 AUTOLOGY. 

actual into the strength, magnitude, power, and vastness of the possible, 
and as the beautiful is the enhancement of the actual into all the homo- 
geneous proportions of the perfect which lie in the possible, so are the 
deformed and the ludicrous exaggerations and extravaganzas of the 
sublime and the beautiful into the misshapen and monstrous, absurd and 
ridiculous growths which lie in the possible. 

c. These facts are given by the Consciousness in any disproportion or 
extravagance of the affections of the mind in relation to one another, or 
in any misgrowth of any of them ; and such misgrowths do exist ; for 
man is imperfect; he may have too much egotism, or self-conceit, too 
much vanity, too much trustfulness, too much hopefulness, too much 
aspiringness, too much reverentialness, or too little of them. Any of 
these facts existing would give the ground of deformity and ludicrous- 
ness in the very structure of the mind itself. 

d. Now, the Reason, taking any of these facts of consciousness, forms 
from them the necessary and universal idea of the deformed and the 
ludicrous. And here, again, it is because of these affections within our 
own structure and consciousness, that we are capable of knowing and 
appreciating the deformed and the ludicrous. 

48. The Idea of the Eight, or of Moral Differences. 
The forty-eighth fact above given by the Consciousness is that of 
ethical distinctions. The conscience accuses, or else excuses, every act 
and state of the mind ; and from this exercise, experience, and fact 
given by the Consciousness, the Reason forms the necessary and uni- 
versal idea of the right, the equitable, and the just, as distinguished 
from the wrong, aud the unjust, and the inequitable. 

49. The Idea of the Bute of Duty. 

The forty-ninth fact given by the Consciousness, as above, is that of a 
rule of right. The completed rule of duty is given, of course, by the 
Reason in its highest intelligence and knowledge ; yet the germ of a rule 
appears in consciousness after the conscience has distinguished moral 
difference, which is implied in, and arises from, this action of the con- 
science itself; and on this fact the Reason forms its necessary and uni- 
versal idea of a rule of duty, and seeks to perfect it. 

50. The Idea of Moral Obligation. 

a. The fiftieth fact noted as given by the Consciousness above is that 
of the enforcement of the rule of duty according to the discrimination of 
the Conscience and the Reason. 

b. From this fact that the Conscience does enforce and oblige the 
Will to obey the rule of right, the Reason forms the necessary and uni- 
versal idea of all moral obligation. 



THE INTELLECT. 403 

51. The Idea of a Personal Creator, or God. 

a. The fifty-first fact of Consciousness before given was that of man's 
complete personality, conscious that he is an effect. 

b. From this fact the Reason forms the idea of the converse of this 
effect as its cause, which cause must be a personal Creator and God ; for 
the human personality has in it all the elements of any personality, human 
or divine. The Creator of such a personality must Himself be a person. 
Man has not simply a cause, but an author; i. e., a personal Creator. 

c. Hence, from the fact of Consciousness above given, the Reason 
forms the necessary and universal idea, and logically demands the being 
of a personal Creator and God. The will of man, by its free power of 
choice, exercises the power of God ; the affections - yearn after God ; the 
conscience appeals to God ; and thus the whole- man comes into the 
rational consciousness that he is in the image of God. 

d. As a begun personality, man is rationally conscious that he is in 
the image of a creating personality. Man as an effect is conscious that 
he is an effect. As an effect, he is rationally conscious that he is the 
correlative of a cause which is rational, ethical, affectional, and free ; and 
thus the Reason not only forms the idea of a personal Creator as God, 
but draws the logical inference of his actual existence. 

Thus have we gone through and transformed, by the power of the 
Reason, all the facts given by the Consciousness into ideas. The Reason, 
by a power and insight of its own, sees through and comprehends the 
nature of the facts of the Consciousnsss, and transforms them into ideas. 
These ideas become, in turn, the means of cognizing other facts, and as 
such are called categories. 

SECT. IV. .ABSOLUTE PERSONALITY piSTINGUISHED FROM HUMAN 
AND IMMORTAL PERSONALITY, AND ALSO FROM BRUTE BEING 
AND INANIMATE NATURE. - 

a. Having in the last chapter distinguished and distributed the facts of 
the Consciousness according to the three great divisions of created being, 
viz., the Human Mind, Brute Being, and Inanimate Nature, we now dis- 
tinguish and classify the ideas, which the Reason forms from those facts, 
into corresponding classes ; viz., Human, Immortal, and Divine mind, or 
personality, Brute Being, and Inanimate Nature. 

b. In order to this division and classification of the ideas of the 
Reason, it will be necessary to present a more distinct and compre- 
hensive view of the varieties of personality than we, as yet, have done, 
and, after that, to furnish some further notice of brute being and inani- 
mate nature. 



404 AUTOLOGY. 

The Varieties of Personality. 

A. Having before us all the facts of the Human personality and the 
full and complete idea of what all personality must be everywhere, the 
Reason is now prepared to form an idea both of immortal and of divine 
personality. 

B. a. As to Immortal Personality, we mean by it simply the soul of 
man and the immortal creatures in the spirit world. The soul of man is 
simply the personality ; the body is but the soul's instrument. The 
soul is man's spiritual nature as mind, made up of self-consciousness, 
will, reason, affections, conscience ; these constituents of the soul are 
perpetually affirmed by the Consciousness as facts in the self and the 
will completed into a personality. 

b. The Will, having- essential activity, essential intelligence, essential 
individuality, essential self-law, and essential liberty, and being thus the 
substance of the mind producing as qualities, and holding in the unity 
of inherence, the affections, intellect, and conscience, is a complete per- 
sonality and a soul. Free will, affections, reason, and conscience con- 
stitute a soul. 

c. On the contrary, a brute has none of these ; it has no will, but 
only a self; no affections, but only self-sustentative appetites, self- 
defensive dispositions, parentive feelings, and gregarious propensities ; 
no reason, but only a sensuous consciousness ; no conscience, but only a 
love of approbation ; consequently the brute has no soul. 

d. But man has a soul, and this soul is a fact — a fact of conscious- 
ness, a person ; and while man in this world, in a human body, is a 
mortal personality, the soul in the spirit world, with the body of the 
spirit world, is an immortal personality. This is the only difference. 
The soul is the same ; only the body changes. 

e. We see the body die, and decay, and waste, after the soul has left 
it ; and this because the body is a part of nature ; but this is all we do 
see. We do not see the soul die ; we only see it cease to manifest it- 
self through the body. The soul does not die, because it is spirit, and 
not nature. 

/. To say that the soul dies with the body or because the body dies, 
is all a gratuitous assertion ; the prima facie evidence is, that the soul 
is immortal. That it dies with the body is an assertion that must be 
proved before it can be received as true ; and the burden of proving 
this lies upon the party who asserts it. Am I called upon to prove the 
immortality of my soul? I retort the summons, and demand the proof 
of my mortality ; and until that is proved, the immortality of my soul 
stands as a fixed fact ; for it is not in the nature of spirit to die ; only 
animate and inanimate nature dies, or passes through the change which 



THE INTELLECT. 405 

we call death; for, in fact, nothing in nature ever dies, but only changes, 
so that nature does not furnish even the analogy of death. # 

g. But the free, rational, self-conscious soul, having will, affections, 
intellect, and conscience, is already spirit, and not nature, and in the 
spirit world, save the body, which connects it with nature. Its instru- 
ments of body, such as physical resistance and the senses, are only in- 
struments, not a part of it ; just as one would take a boat with oars, 
nets, spears, hooks and lines, and rods, in order to go fishing on a lake 
or stream of water. The boat, oars, nets, spears, hooks, lines, and rods, 
are no part of the man who goes fishing, but are simply his instruments: 
so is the body to the soul. And if the boat, oars, nets, and other in- 
struments should all be left in the midst of the lake, while the man 
should swim ashore, or all rot on the shore, — that would as much prove 
the death of the man who used them as does the death of the body the 
death of the soul. 

h. The soul is always spirit; it is never nature ; and only nature dies. 
Spirit never dies ; death has no power whatever over it. The soul is 
born of spirit ; every soul has its origin outside of nature, and in the 
will of human parents, who are themselves, not mere nature, but mind, 
soul, spirit : therefore is the soul always of spirit substance, and always 
belongs to the race of the immortals. 

i. Should an angel come down here and take a human body, and then 
lay it off again and go back to the spirit world, we would have just as 
good reason to suppose the angel died with the body which it put off, 
as that the soul of man dies with the body which it puts off. The fact 
is, we have no evidence whatever that the soul dies with the body ; on 
the contrary, only the body dies before our eyes, and we bury it ; but the 
soul was never any part of nature, but always above and out of nature, 
and distinct from it in origin, in substance, in qualities, and in action ; 
therefore the soul, being spirit in its essence, and being self-conscious and 
free in its action, rational in its intelligence, affectional in its sensibilities 
and ethical in its judgments upon its own actions, is not nature, but 
spirit ; not allied to brutes, but akin to God ; not mortal, but immortal. 

j. It does not and cannot die with its working machine, and travelling 
apparatus, and earth-digging and earth-measuring implement the body, 
but lays it by at death for another, better adapted to its use, and lives 
on imperishable forever. How often in eternity the soul may change 
one form of body for another higher and better, we know not ; but we 
hope, often, and with delight ; for there will be no sin there, and every 
such change there will be a sort of divine transfiguration, as Christ's was 
on the mount and when he ascended, and as death would have been here 
if there had been no sin. 

k. Man, or Human Personality, has three limitations : 1. Limitation 



406 AUTOLOGY. 

as to beginning of being. 2. Limitation as to perfectness of being. 
3. Limitation as to duration of being. 

I. Soul, or Immortal Personality, has two limitations: 1. Limitation 
as to beginning of being. 2. Limitation as to perfectness of being. 
But no limitation, — i. e., endlessly measurable — as to duration of 
being. 

C. Absolute Personality. 

a. Above we have our first ideas of an immortal personality formed 
from the fact of a human personality. And now from this idea of an 
immortal personality, and from all the facts and elements in the human 
personality, and from the idea of what all personalities must necessarily 
be, already formed, the Reason rises to the idea of an absolute personality. 

b. The facts upon which the Reason forms its ideas of an absolute 
personality, are these : First, the elements which constitute the human 
personality; viz., Self-consciousness, Will, Reason, Affections, and Con- 
science, with all their elements and constituents. Second, the action of 
these elements of personality contributes material for the formation of 
the idea of an absolute personality ; to wit, the mind has essential activ- 
ity, and, hence, can begin to act, is an absolute actor ; the mind has 
essential intelligence, and is, consequently, self-conscious, and can begin 
to know ; it is, therefore, an absolute knower : the will has essential 
self-law, and, therefore, has essential liberty, and is absolutely free. 

c. Furthermore, the Reason comprehends ideas directly and ab- 
solutely. The affections have absolute spontaneity ; and the conscience 
gives absolutely the sense of obligation to observe the highest known 
rules of right. Hence the essential activity is an absolute beginner of 
action ; the Consciousness is an absolute beginner of knowledge, and 
knower of facts ; the Reasou is an absolute comprehender of ideas ; the 
Will is an absolute chooser ; the Affections are absolute sensibilities ; 
and the Conscience is an absolute discerner and enforcer of the right. 

d. From the personality thus formed, the Reason has already grasped 
the idea that all personalities, mortal and immortal, human and divine, 
must have these elements, and be thus and thus constituted. Then the 
Reason, taking away and delimiting this personality of mortality, forms 
from it the idea of an immortal personality. 

e. And now, the Reason, proceeding again with its work of delimita- 
tion, forms, from the fact of this human personality, the idea of an ab- 
solute personality ; a personality which is, — 1. Absolutely illimitable 
as to beginning of being, or self-existent. 2. Absolutely illimitable as 
to perfectness of being, or infinite. 3. Absolutely illimitable as to dura- 
tion of being, or eternal. All these elements summing themselves up 
together in the one idea of an Absolute Personality, as Creator, Author, 
and Cause of all. 



THE INTELLECT. 407 

/. What, more fully, is an infinite or absolute personality? for the 
same is meant by both terms. The infinite, or absolute, is not an idea of 
space, time, quantity, or degree ; they have no significance with regard 
to it. It is not made up of parts of space, or periods of time, or portions 
of quantity, or degrees of reality or quality, or perfectness of power. 
These never could, by any possibility, become the infinite by any 
augmentation or addition of amount, no matter how great or how long 
continued. 

g. The infinite is that to which nothing can be added, not because it 
is so great already, and from which nothing can be subtracted, not be- 
cause it is already so small, but because it is simply absolute. The 
infinite is absolutely infinite, and not comparatively infinite ; for there is 
not, and cannot be, any comparative infinite, because the infinite admits 
of no comparison. And as the infinite is absolutely infinite, so is the 
absolute infinitely absolute; they qualify and complete each other; and 
they are thus distinguishable from the definite and the unlimited ; viz., 
the absolute is not the definite, because it is infinite ; the infinite is not 
the unlimited, because it is absolute. ■ 

h. The unlimited may be extended by perpetual addition, or dimin- 
ished by constant diminution ; but the infinite cannot be increased nor 
diminished. The absolute is not the definite, simply ; for that has both 
a beginning and an end ; but the absolute can have neither beginning 
nor end ; it has simple reality, and is perfect without either. 

i. ' The idea of the absolutely infinite and the infinitely absolute is the 
same in nature as that of a sphere, a circle, a cube, a square, a trian- 
gle, or a straight line ; it can be no more nor less, but absolutely what 
it is. A circle can be neither more nor less than a circle ; if it deviates 
from being a true circle, it ceases to be a circle at all : so of a sphere, 
cube, square, right angle, or straight line ; they are, simply, positive 
quantities, and are infinitely and absolutely a sphere, circle, cube, 
square, right angle, and straight line, and can by no possibility be any- 
thing more or less than these. 

j. So of the infinite ; it is simply incommensurable and incompara- 
ble, and* it stands alone, absolute in its infiniteness, and infinite in its 
absoluteness; the infinite and the absolute mutually complete 'and per- 
fect each other, are each essential to the other, each, substance and 
quality of the other, and both are one complete being, one infinite and 
absolute personality. 

k. The circularness of the circle is infinitely and absolutely circu- 
lar ; the sphericalness of a sphere, the cubeness of a cube, the square- 
ness of a square, the straightness of a straight line, are each and all 
infinitely and absolutely what they are, and can, by no possibility, be 



408 AUTOLOGY. 

anything- else. So is an infinite and absolute personality infinite and 
absolute as a personality, and can be nothing- more or less. 

I. But perhaps our best idea of the infinite is derived from the idea 
. of power, as infinite power. God's power is infinite ; yet we do not 
form an idea of its infiniteness by adding one great feat of power to 
another, or one great exhibition of strength to another. It is not be- 
cause God can do an unlimited number of things ; it is not that he can 
move the worlds, whirl them on in orbits, or crush them with a touch, 
that we think him infinite ; but it is simply this : he can do anything 
that is do-able, anything that is the subject of power. He can create, 
give life ; and this power is just as infinite when creating an atom as 
when creating a world. 

m. God's infinity has no more relation to space or time than to 
amount, or degree of being or power ; it is an absolute infinity. All 
space and all time outside of God are finite. God created them and 
made them stand firm in the midst of nothingness, and filled them with 
the worlds. God's own infinite space and time are within himself, in the 
nature of his own being ; yet he fills the finite space and time which he 
created by his living presence. God's infiniteness lies altogether in the 
nature of his being, within him and not outside of him. God's creative- 
ness is at once his omnipresence and his almightiness. 

n. Comparative strength is shown by the power to overcome the 
force of gravitation ; to lift, for instance, a great weight from the 
ground, by which we show muscle, and nerve, and physical strength. 
This is resisting the force of gravitation ; and this strength is great in 
proportion to the weight thus lifted and the amount of the force of 
gravitation overcome. Now, this is finite power, even though it can 
lift a world. 

o. But, on the contrary, the force of gravitation itself, that sustains 
and holds up all things, is a positive power, which bears up the worlds, 
great and small, with equal ease. Now, though this is a finite power, yet 
it serves to illustrate God's power as an infinite power which is not com- 
parative, like the strength of a giant who should lift a mountain, but abso- 
lute, like the force of gravitation that holds up and supports all 'things 
alike, both great and small, both the giant and the world which he lifts. 

p. The same may be said of God's infinite knowledge. He knows 
everything, as he can do everything; he knows all the knowable, just 
as he can do all the do-able. He knows everything which is a subject 
of knowledge ; and this power is just as manifest in knowing one 
thing as in knowing a thousand things. He knows everything for the 
same reason that he knows anything, and is everywhere present for 
the same 'reason that he is anywhere present. "His centre is every- 
where, and his circumference nowhere," as all possible and real rela- 



THE INTELLECT. 409 

tions and things are within the grasp of his mind ; for he conceived 
and created them. 

q. So all space and all time, as one sphere, were in him, and by him 
put forth in limitation. Degrees of distance and time are no more to 
him than degrees of power. As he can do all the do-able, and know all 
the knowable, so he inhabits, at one and the same moment, all. the inhab- 
itable, and lives alike in all time at once. Space and time are absolute 
in him, and made finite by him in his works. To fill all space and all 
time is to be simply finite. 

r. Now, from this we see that it is not the infinite which is incompre- 
hensible, but the finite. The infinite is that to which no measure of any 
kind can be applied, but which has simply reality, infinite -and absolute ; 
while the finite or unlimited is the endlessly measurable, whose meas- 
urement can never be completed, or if completed is finite still. You 
may measure endless space and never cease applying the measuring 
line ; yet this is not the infinite, but the finite. You may add world to 
world forever and never find the end in eternal ages ; yet this addition 
makes not the infinite, but only the finite forever and forever still. 

s. We cannot comprehend this unending measuring, that to all eter- 
nity finds no end. We may travel over God's works forever, and learn 
that they are " past finding out ; " yet they are only the endlessly meas- 
urable or finite. The infinite is absolute; and we can comprehend it ; but 
the finite is unlimited and incomprehensible. It is endlessly measura- 
ble, but can never be measured ; it is therefore incomprehensible. The 
brain is bewildered in striving after the end of it, and so it is often 
called the infinite ; yet it is not the infinite, but only the finite, and that 
forever and ever. Eternity is finite to all who enter it ; no matter how 
long it lasts, it is endlessly measurable ; but the infinite is absolute, and 
admits of no measurement; it only has infinite and absolute reality. It, 
therefore, is clearly comprehensible, and has a clear and certain recogni- 
tion in the mind. 

t. Thus have we an idea of an infinite personality, formed from the 
fact of our human personality, and the idea, formed from it, of what all 
personality must be. We have from the person of man, as we have 
seen, all the essential and elementary facts, ideas, and categories of 
universal being. These facts and ideas afford us data by which to dis- 
tinguish the infinite and comprehend its nature. We therefore take 
such facts from which to form an idea of the infinite and absolute. 

u. Of such facts we have many. All primary facts are facts of the 
absolute, though man, in whose being they are found, is not an absolute 
being. All the primary facts are known absolutely. The Consciousness 
knows directly and absolutely. The Reason comprehends directly and 
absolutely. The Will is absolutely free. Liberty is, and cannot possi- 
52 



410 AUTOLOGY. 

bly be less than, absolute and infinite. Liberty, if less, would be no 
liberty at all ; and the human will, as a will, is both infinite and absolute. 
Its power to make choices is infinite ; for, if the power to choose is not 
infinite in its extent and absolute in its freedom, it is no power at all. 

v. While man as a being is finite and frail, weak, and dependent for 
being and sustenance, and ever falling back to decay and death, yet as 
a will he is infinite and absolute. He can will infinitely, and is free ab- 
solutely. His freedom must be absolute, or not at all ; freedom does 
not admit of degrees. The will is, therefore, infinitely and absolutely 
free ; man can choose, not only many things, but absolutely everything. 
As a simple chooser, therefore, the will is both an infinite and an abso- 
lute will ; and -the conscience, as a discerner and enforcer of the right, is 
absolute, whether mistaken or not. 

w. Now, from this fact of a personality whose consciousness, reason, 
arid will, and conscience act absolutely, and are infinite in their respec- 
tive spheres, the reason forms the idea of an absolute personality ; a 
personality which has all the elements of the human personality, but all 
of them delimited and transmuted, transfigured and glorified, into an ab- 
solute personality; a personality, — 1. Absolutely unlimited as to be- 
ginning of being, or self-existent ; 2. Absolutely unlimited as to per- 
fectness of being, or infinite ; 3. Absolutely unlimited as to duration 
of existence, or eternal, — all making and summing up one complete 
and absolute personality. 

x. Thus have we our first idea of God formed from the fact and nature 
of our own personality, verifying the Scriptures which affirm that God 
made man in his own image, by the fact that man finds God in his own 
image, viz., a personality ; and that he first finds him in the structure and 
facts of his own personality. 

y. It will here be observed that God is one of our first, and not one 
of our last, ideas ; that " he is not far from every one of us ; " and that 
"in him," literally, "we live, and move, and have our being;" while 
we find the first traces of his being in our own, deep down in the very 
elements of our personality, even in the absolute activity of our own 
living souls, the absolute knowing of our consciousness, the absolute 
comprehending of our reason, and the absolute choices of our will, and 
the absolute obligings of our conscience ; and the whole image of his per- 
sonality in our own personality of will, affections, intellect, and conscience. 
Thus have we the idea of God as an infinite and absolute personality. 

z. We shall look after the fact of God's being, and the realization of 
this idea of God, when we come to the operations of the reason in cog- 
nizing, under the categories of personality. We are now making cate- 
gories ; tTien we shall use them in cognizing objects external to the mind, 
and shall search after God. 



THE INTELLECT. 411 

aa. We here give a 

Schedule of the Varieties of Personality. 

1st. Man, — Human personality has these limitations : — 

1. Limitation as to beginning of being. 

2. Limitation as to perfectness of being. . 

3. Limitation as to duration of being. 

2d. Soul, — Immortal Personality. 

1. Limitation as to beginning of being. 

2. Limitation as to perfectness of being. 

3. Unlimited, i. e., endlessly measurable, as to duration of being. 

From these varieties of personality, the reason. rises to 

3d. God, — or Absolute Personality. 

1. Absolutely illimitable as to beginning of being, or self-existent. 

2. Absolutely illimitable as to perfectness of being, or infinite. 

3. Absolutely illimitable as to duration of "being, or eternal. 

All these elements summing up one absolute personality, one absolute 
creator, cause, author, the Almighty God, who is blessed forever. 

bb. The complete set of ideas given in the last section belong to per- 
sonality, and are essential to its complete cognition ; but the following 
are the leading or head ideas or categories of personality as distin- 
guished- from those of brute being and inanimate nature ; viz., — 1. Idea 
of Will. 2. Idea of Affections. 3. Idea of Intellect. 4. Idea of Con- 
science. 5. Idea of Human and Immortal Personality. 6. Absolute 
Personality. 

While God, self-existent as to being, infinite as to perfectness, and 
eternal as to duration, is all distinct and different in his nature from 
man's nature and all the creatures of his power, yet he has in himself all 
the elements that are in man, in animate life, and in inanimate nature. As 
man has in him all the elements which are in brute life and in inanimate 
nature, while he himself has a higher and a different nature, distinct 
from both, so is God essentially a higher and a different spirit from 
man, yet has in him also all that is in man and in the creatures below. 

D. Brute Being. 

a. We next have the ideas of animal life, differing generically from 
those of person, yet being in part analogous to them. That they differ 
in kind, and not in degree, from the ideas of person, and that brute 
nature is different in kind from man's nature, is proved, as shown in 



412 AUTOLOGY. 

Chap. I., by the fact that human nature has will, affections, reason, and 
conscience, while the brute has none of them. 

b. All the ideas in the foregoing section are found in brute being, ex- 
cept those named as peculiarly personal iu the lists just preceding. The 
following are peculiar to brute being as distinguished from inanimate 
nature : — 

The Leading Ideas formed from Facts of Brute Being. 

I. Idea of Self. 

II. 1. Idea of Sensuous Consciousness. 2. Idea of Physical Resist- 
ance. 3. Idea of the Five Senses. 

III. 1. Idea of Self-sustentative Appetites. 2. Idea of Self-defen- 
sive Dispositions. 3. Idea of Parentive Feelings. 4. Idea of Gre- 
garious Propensities. 

E. Inanimate Nature. 

a. We now come to the ideas of inanimate nature, and we find that the 
same facts that have given us the personal and animal ideas give us, 
also, the ideas of inanimate nature. It must be observed that, while 
the five elements of activity, intelligence, individuality, self-law, and 
liberty, give us will as a free person and a free cause, yet these elements* 
in themselves, are not free, but are necessary elements ; that is, they 
act necessarily, and not freely ; therefore they are of the same homo- 
geneity as any elements or forces in nature. 

b. It is true that the forces of essential activity and intelligence are 
adapted to produce life, intelligence, and freedom, reason, affections, and 
conscience in man ; and that in brute life they fail to produce freedom, 
which is soul, or spirit ; and, consequently, fail to produce affections, 
reason, and conscience ; and hence they show themselves to be a different 
activity and a different intelligence from that of man, and inferior to it. 

c. And so it must be true, also, that vegetable life must differ essen- 
tially from animal life ; and the forces of attraction, electricity, gravita- 
tion, and crystallization, must also differ from both of them ; yet all 
these forces are causes, which causes produce effects by their own 
proper force as involuntary causes. The same is true of the primordial 
elements of activity and intelligence, which, as causes, produce the 
effect, individuality, or self. They are, in their working, involuntary 
and necessary, showing neither design nor choice, but acting by force 
of nature as surely, as unthinkingly, as necessarily, as much without 
freedom or alternative, as do gravitation and crystallization ; and therefore 
they are, so far forth, mere causes of -nature, and not free causes ; and 



THE INTELLECT. 413 

hence they are facts of nature, and may be given as the ground of the 
ideas and principles of nature, and of a nature of things. 

d. Hence the essential activity and the essential intelligence may 
serve as facts of involuntary cause, acting without design and without 
choice, and only according to native tendencies ; just as any force in 
nature acts, going involuntarily to a necessary and unavoidable result. 
These facts are, therefore, as we have already seen, the first and true 
ground of our idea of cause, of natural and involuntary cause ; as Will, 
when complete, gives us the fact and the idea of free cause. 

e. So also is each of the succeeding facts of effect, time, quantity, 
space, action, and re-action, substance, and qualities, a mere fact of na- 
ture, involuntary and necessary ; for, although the will is a free will, 
yet, as the substance of the mind, or person, it is involuntary or neces- 
sary ; and the qualities spring out of it necessarily as qualities, not of 
the will, but of the personality, or mind ; and hence all these facts are 
facts of nature, and not of freedom ; they are necessary facts of neces- 
sary forces, or elements, acting necessarily and according to undesigned 
and uuchoosing tendencies, just as all forces in nature act. Therefore 
these facts furnish the data for the ideas, or categories of inanimate 
nature. 

/. If it be said that the activity and the intelligence which are the 
causes of individuality, have the principle of life and of intelligence in 
them, and thus differ from vegetable and crystalline forces, the reply 
is, that vegetable life differs from crystalline forces, and crystalline from 
cohesive forces, and all from the force of gravitation ; yet this differ- 
ence does not take them out of the one class and nature in which they 
agree ; viz., that they are all involuntary and necessary forces. 

g. The fact that inanimate nature can never become animate nature, 
and the fact that animal life can never become human life, no more take 
them out of the same class of necessary forces than the fact that crys- 
talline force can never become vegetable life, or than the fact that 
vegetable life can never become animal life, takes them out of the same 
class. 

h. These different forces of crystalline, vegetable, animal, and hu- 
man being, and life, can never change places, nor become the one or 
the other, but must forever remain distinct, having impassable barriers 
between them ; yet they are all alike and of the same class in this re- 
spect—that the forces causing and constituting them are all involun- 
tary, necessary, undesigning, and unchoosing forces ; forces that act by 
constitutional impulse and according to inherent tendencies, and not 
freely or by intuition. 

i. We therefore take the facts found in analyzing the construction of 
the personality (made up, as it is, .of will, affections, intellect, and con- 



414 AUTOLOGY. 

science) as facts of nature or of being, and not facts of personality. Let the 
distinction be particularly noted : the fact of will, when made, is a fact 
of personality ; but the fact of essential activity and essential intelli- 
gence working together and producing individuality, or self, self-law, 
liberty, and will, is not a fact of personality, but a fact of nature work- 
ing as a necessary cause, and producing of necessity a result. 

j. Just so the Will, when produced, is a free will ; but as the sub- 
stance of the mind, or personality, producing and holding the qualities 
of 'the personality in inherence, it is a necessary substance, or essence, 
out of which spring, necessarily, the qualities of personality, viz., affec- 
tions, intellect, and conscience. Affections are, therefore, a quality of 
personality ; but they are produced by the involuntary and necessary 
development of the essential activity and intelligence, though chiefly by 
the former, in which an affectional nature inheres. So also are the in- 
tellect and the conscience facts and qualities of personality, but are 
produced by the necessary working of necessary causes : indeed, when 
produced, they work necessarily, and not freely themselves. 

k. Thus it is the working of necessary causes that produces person- 
ality, both in its substance and its qualities ; and while the will and the 
personality, of which it is the centre, essence, and substance, are free, 
yet those things which make the will — those elements which compose 
it, and which, when it is composed, still break forth and produce quali- 
ties of the personality — are not free, either in their nature or in their 
working; but when they are producing the will, the affections, the 
intellect, or the conscience, they act mechanically, and produce their 
results necessarily. 

I. We therefore take the facts which constitute the mind as facts of 
nature, and as the basis of the ideas of inanimate nature, while we 
take the facts which these facts constitute as facts of personality and 
of brute life. Some of the leading ideas of 

Inanimate Nature. 

1. Idea of Cause. 2. Idea of Effect. 3. Idea of Time. 4. Idea of 
Substance. 5. Idea of Quality. 6. Idea of Action and Reaction. 7. 
Idea of Object, or Quantity. 8. Idea of Space. 9. Idea of Possible 
Being. 10. Idea of Actual Being. 11. Idea of Necessary Being. 

These, together with the idea of the Reason, found in the preceding 
Section, except such as relate to personal and animal life, belong to 
inanimate nature in common with personal and brute being. 

m. We see that the self, as the substance of animal life, with its 
qualities, may be cognized by the ideas or categories of mere inanimate 
nature to the extent to which inanimate nature can go ; but we see, 
also, that there are things in animal or brute life which no ideas or 



THE INTELLECT. 415 

categories of mere inanimate nature are adequate to cognize or explain ; 
and that, therefore, animal life must have ideas or categories of its own, 
in addition to those of mere inanimate nature. So also may personality 
be cognized in part by the ideas or categories of mere animal nature, 
but not wholly ; indeed, its essential properties cannot be reached at all 
by the ideas or categories of mere, animal life. So can the personality 
be cognized, but in a still less degree, by the ideas or categories of mere 
inanimate nature. 

11. In common with inanimate nature, will and self (or personality 
and brute life) have the ideas or categories of inanimate nature, but they 
also have more. It is true that they have cause, effect, time, quantity, 
space, action, reaction, substance, and qualities, just as inanimate nature 
has, but they have also more. 

o. Animal life has an intelligent, an animated, a living self, as sub- 
stance, having within it certain qualities, such as sensuous conscious- 
ness, and certain appetites, feelings, dispositions, and propensities. But 
the mind has free will as free cause, with affections, reason with the 
sense, and conscience, over and above all that both inanimate nature 
and animal life have, and hence must have its own peculiar ideas or 
categories, which are above, and which include, those of brute life and 
inanimate nature. 

. p. But we have, after all, only one complete set of ideas or categories 
formed from the facts of consciousness, and reaching from" man down to 
brute life and inanimate nature ; the higher always being of a distinct 
nature, yet always including the lower, though the lower never includes 
the higher. 

F. Why are there no more, and no fewer Ideas or Categories? 

a. The reply is, that they are limited, in the first instance, to the facts 
which constitute the human mind. There are no more ideas, simply 
because there are no more facts in man's personal being to make them 
out of; and there are no less, because we find all these facts in the 
human being, or personality of man ; just as a triangle can have but 
three angles ; a square but four ; and just as we give the will five ele- 
ments, because consciousness tells of these five, and no more ; and just 
as the affections have six elemental affections, and six orders of deter- 
minate affections, and not more nor less, because consciousness does not 
give more, nor reason require more or less ; and just as we shall find the 
conscience, made up by the joint action of all the preceding faculties, 
the highest intelligent rule of action, and the purest ethical imperative 
to that action. 

h. Thus is.it here with the knowing faculty; it explores the person- 
ality for all its facts, and then forms on them its ideas : rather, it com- 



416 AUTOLOGY. 

prehends them, and, in comprehending, transfigures them into ideas. 
Thus are the ideas, or the categories, formed of the facts of being, 
and are what they are, and are as many, and as few, as they are, 
because the facts of man's personality are just what they are. The 
facts control the number, as they create the kind, of the ideas and the 
categories. 

c. There may be facts in the human mind which we have failed to 
note, and which would be the ground of more ideas than we have given ; 
so also may there be more ideas in the facts which we have found than 
we have given ; but the facts that are in the human mind are the foun- 
dation and the limit of all the original and generic ideas which lie at the 
foundation of all knowledge. 

d. Other facts will be found outside of man in the outer universe ; 
but man's ability to cognize them consists in his knowledge of the origi- 
nal facts of his own being and the ideas which he forms from them. 
These ideas are the original language of the soul, and of all souls ; and 
with them man can begin the knowledge of everything, and without 
them he can know nothing. 

e. This is not making man the measure of all things, and reducing 
the knowledge of the universe to a knowledge of man ; but it is pos- 
sessing the mind with the elements of all knowledge, and with the power 
to begin to learn the outer world. The facts in man's nature are uni- 
versal facts. Man's being, next to God, is the first and highest in the 
universe; and from him, therefore, the elements of knowledge are gained 
with which to know all things ; and that because a fact in man's nature 
is the same as a fact in any other part of the universe. 

/. And the reason, by its own insight, grasps and comprehends the 
universal and the necessary amidst the individual and the particular in 
man's being ; and with these necessary and universal ideas, or cate- 
gories, man is prepared to go out into universal nature, and into all 
parts, and among all natures of the universe, and is able to cognize 
them, because he has in his own mind universal truths and principles, 
which are true and homogeneous everywhere. He can cognize God ; 
for while God, as self-existent, infinite, eternal, and absolute personality, 
is essentially distinct and higher than man in nature, having in himself 
all that man, animal life, and inanimate nature have, yet man, as in 
God's image, has in him elements homogeneous with God's nature, and 
can know him. 

g. The truth that is in the strrcture of the human mind is the same 
that exists in the structure of God, angels, and the universe of worlds 
everywhere ; hence, "whosoever has these truths and the ideas formed 
from them, has the language of nature, the language of the soul, the 
language of angels, the language of God, and is prepared to travel 



THE INTELLECT. 417 

everywhere, and to hold converse with all natures and all beings, — 
with God, nature, and rational souls, in all parts of the universe. 

h. And now the reason qualified with this its own vernacular tongue 
will go out (when equipped with physical resistance and the five senses) 
to explore and learn the outer and objective world, cognizing, and to 
cognize. It will find new facts and form new ideas, and thus learn 
many new languages, even as many as all the objects of the world with 
which it comes in contact. It will learn the language of all the inhabit- 
ants of all the different kingdoms in the vast empire of the universe, 
and will speak to them in their own proper tongues, calling them by 
their own names, as Adam did the beasts and objects brought before him 
in the new world in which he was placed. 

i. The facts within the human mind, and the ideas formed upon them, 
may be known completely and definitely ; for there is a limit to them : 
but the facts and ideas of the outer world can never be fully known ; for 
there is no end to them. The learning of them is the learning that is 
"ever learning, and never coming to a knowledge of the truth;" 
and the making of books on the outer world is " the making of books, 
of which there is no end." 

j. This work of measuring and knowing the outer world, and this 
outer world itself, are the finite, which can never be finited, and the com- 
prehensible, which can never be comprehended. The infinite is compre- 
hensible, because it is simply perfect and absolute ; but the finite is 
imperfect, incomplete, and indefinite, and, consequently, can never be 
fully known or comprehended ; it is not the existence and person so 
much as the created works of God, that are "past finding out." 
53 



418 AUTOLOGY. 



DIVISION II. 

ABSOLUTE KNOWING, OR THE ORIGIN AND NATURE 
OF IDEAS AND OF THE SENSE. 



■ CHAPTER III. 

FACTS, IDEAS, AND CATEGORIES OF THE UNEMBODIED MIND, OR 
SOUL ISLAND. 

a. We now propose to examine and set forth as a whole the vital and 
dynamical structure of the Soul, which has risen like an Island Rock — a 
Coral Isle in the midst of the Sea of Being 1 . This Island is made up of the 
facts of the Consciousness, and of the ideas and categories of the Reason. 
In Chap. I. the Consciousness has given us the particular facts of the soul's 
being and life. In Chap. II. the Reason has given us the necessary and 
universal ideas which it forms from these particular facts of the Con- 
sciousness. In. these two chapters are fully set forth the actual facts 
found by the explorations of the Consciousness, as existing in the soul, 
and constituting the soul itself; and the ideas defined and set forth 
which the Reason forms from them. All this is presented as a matter of 
discovery, and written down as actual statistics. To these two chapters 
of facts and ideas the reader is referred for the actual material of the 
facts and the actual formation of the ideas of the' soul. Both the nature 
•and material of the particular facts, and the actual formation of the 
universal and necessary ideas, are there stated. Those chapters will 
suffice for a full description. We now write out in full the abstract table 
of the particular facts, and the universal ideas and the categories thence 
arising, which are piled up in successive lifts and layers, one upon 
another, from the bottom to the top, until they reach the surface, and the 
Soul Island appears in the light and air of heaven. Thus far the work, 
facts, and ideas have all been subjective, and all has been done by the 
Consciousness and the Reason ; hereafter the soul will take on body and 
sense, as the Island takes on soil and verdure. The table of facts 
and ideas here presented as building the island of the soul, constitutes 



THE INTELLECT. 419 

also the categories of being and knowing. The facts are particular facts; 
the ideas formed from them are universal ideas ; these ideas constitute 
the categories, and are identical with them. There is no difference be- 
tween an idea and a category, save that the term " idea" is employed when 
we comprehend the nature of a thing ; we form an idea of a thing when 
we comprehend that thing. But we call the same idea a " category " 
when we use it to cognize or comprehend some other thing ; hence cate- 
gories are identical with ideas, and consist of them. They have the same 
necessary and universal nature that ideas have, and hence they are the 
knowledges of the soul, which it has beforehand, by means of which it 
cognizes all objects with which it comes in contact in the external world. 

CONTINGENT AND PARTICULAR FACTS AND NECESSARY AND 
UNIVERSAL IDEAS FORMING 

SOUL ISLAND. 

A. Elemental Facts, Ideas and Categories. 

1. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Activity. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Essen- 
tial Activity. 

2. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Intelligence. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Essen- 
tial Intelligence. 

3. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Self. 

The Reason, forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Essen- 
tial Self. 

4. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Self-law. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Self-law. 

5. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Liberty. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Essen- 
tial Liberty. 

6. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Essential Free Will. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Essen- 
tial Free Will. 

B. Facts, Ideas and Categories op Being. 

Y. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Being. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Being. 

8. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Diversity. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Diversity. 

9. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Identity. 

. The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Identity. 



420 AUTOLOGY. 

10. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Resemblance. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Resem- 
blance. 

C. Causal Facts, Ideas and Categories, 

11. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Cause. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Cause. 

12. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Effect. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Effect. 

13. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Vital and Dy- 

namical connection between Cause and Effect. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
' Vital and Dynamical connection between Cause and Effect. 

14. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Vital and Dy- 

namical Identity of Cause and Effect. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
Vital and Dynamical Identity of Cause and Effect. 

15. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Motion. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of 
Motion. 

16. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Number. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of 
Number. 

17. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Time. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Time. 

D. Facts, Ideas and Categories of Substance. 

18. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Substance. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Sub- 
stance. 

19. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Quality. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Quality. 

20. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Affections. 

The Reason' forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Affec- 
tions. 

21. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Intellect. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of In- 
tellect. 

22. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Conscience. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Con- 
science. 

23. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Vital and Dy- 

namical relation between Substance and Quality. 



THE INTELLECT. 421 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
Vital and Dynamical relation between Substance and Quality. 

24. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Vital and Dy- 

namical Identity of Substance and Quality. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
Vital and Dynamical Identity of Substance and Quality. 

E. Facts, Ideas and Categories of Vitality. 

25. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Action and Reaction. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Ac- 
tion and Reaction. 

26. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Perpetual Identity 

of the Self. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Per- 
petual Identity of the Self. 
21. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Perpetual Reknow- 
ing of the Consciousness. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Per- 
petual Reknowing of the Consciousness. 

F. Facts, Ideas and Categories of Personality. 

28. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Free Cause. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Free 
Cause. 

29. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Final Cause. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Final 
Cause. 

30. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Complete Personality. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Com- 
plete Personality. 

G. Facts, Ideas and Categories of Objectivity. 

31. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Object. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Object. 

32. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Whole and Part. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Whole 

and Part. 

33. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Measure. , 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Meas- 
ure. 

34. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Space. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Space. 

35. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Impenetrability. 



422 AUTOLOGY. 

The Reason forms from It the universal Idea and Category of Im- 
penetrability. 

H. Facts and Ideas of the Kind op Being. 

36. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Spirit. ■ . 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Spirit. 

37. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Life. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Life. 

38. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Force. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Force. 

39. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Matter. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Matter. 

I. Facts, Ideas and Categories of Mode. 

40. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Mode. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Mode. 

41. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Actual. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
Actual. 

42. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Possible. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
Possible. 

43. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Necessary. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 

Necessary. 

J. iEsTHETICAL FACTS, IDEAS AND CATEGORIES. 

44. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the True. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
True. 

45. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Sublime. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
Sublime. 

46. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Beautiful. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
Beautiful. 
•47. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Deformed and 
the Ludicrous. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
Deformed and the Ludicrous. 

K. Ethical Facts, Ideas and Categories. 
48. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of the Right. 



THE INTELLECT. 423 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of the 
Right. 

49. The Consciousness gjves the particular Fact of a Rule of Duty. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of a 

Rule of Duty. 

50. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Moral Obligation. 
The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of Moral 

Obligation. 

L. Theistical Facts, Ideas and Categories. 

51. The Consciousness gives the particular Fact of Personality. 

The Reason forms from it the universal Idea and Category of a 
Personal Creator and God. 

I. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, first, that it is a submarine 
rock-mountain, built up from the bottom of the sea of being, with the 
facts and faculties of the soul itself joined and framed together by their 
own spirit, life, and force. This Island was begun low down at the 
bottom by the first small and almost indistinguishable facts of the con- 
sciousness, viz., essential activity and essential intelligence ; they, by 
combining and developing themselves, built up the self, the will, the affec- 
tions, the intellect, and the conscience, completing the whole in one 
personality. ■ 

b. These facts are, so to speak, but the leading ledges and lifts of 
this rock-built mountain ; for between them and around them are built 
in all the other facts of the consciousness which we have given ; and 
they are piled up, rock upon rock, and layer upon layer, from the deep 
foundation up to the surface, forming one island of living stone, now 
ready, to take on earth and soil above the water and in the air, bearing 
fruit and flower and supporting animal life in the light, and heat, and 
atmosphere of the common heavens over it. 

c. In other words, the soul is now ready to take on the body and 
the senses, and appear among the entities and the phenomena of flesh 
and blood, and of physical being and life. 

II. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, secondly, that it is the 
place where all the original, necessary, and universal ideas of the soul 
are created ; that the Reason takes the spiritual, vital and dynamical 
facts of which it is composed, and delimits and transfigures them into 
necessary and universal ideas ; and that these ideas lie between, and fill 
up, the interstices of the facts, which, as so many successive strata, 
build up the whole island of the soul, and form its existence. 

III. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, thirdly, that it is the sub- 



424 • AUTOLOGY. 

ject matter and the- abode of all the soul's absolute knowledge. It 
contains the facts of the consciousness, and the ideas of the reason, both 
of which it knows with an absolute knowing-. The criterion of absolute 
knowing is this : viz., the knower and the known must be identical, 
while in relative knowing they may be diverse. The facts of conscious- 
ness and the ideas of the reason constitute the sum total of the soul's 
absolute knowledge. 

IV. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, fourthly, that it is the 
forge and storehouse of the .categories which are the moans of all relative 
knowing. The categories are identical with the universal and necessary 
ideas which the Reason forms from the original facts of consciousness. 
As such they are necessary and universal forms according to which all 
things exist, and by which they are known. The Reason, which created 
the ideas from the facts of consciousness, discerning them to be the 
necessary and universal forms of all being, constructs from them the 
categories, and takes them, when thus formed, as a means of under- 
standing, interpreting, and explaining all things in heaven and in 
earth. 

b. Thus it appears that this Soul Island, by means of the original 
facts, ideas, and categories of which it is composed, contains the ele- 
ments of all the knowledge of the outer world ; for it is only by means 
of the things already known that we can know the, as yet, unknown ; 
i. e., it is only by means of something known absolutely, that we can 
know anything relatively ; and all things except the mind itself (this 
Soul Island itself) are known by only a relative knowing. The mind 
knows itself, i. e., its own primary facts of consciousness and its own 
original ideas and categories of the reason, absolutely ; but with these 
knowledges of itself and these ideas and categories known absolutely, it 
knows the outer world and all outside of the mind relatively. 

V. a. Of this Island it may be said, fifthly, that it is the home of 
Memory. The categories by which we cognize objects and events, in 
the first instance, are the means also by which we re-cognize in the 
second instance ; i. e., by which we remember. These categories, or 
ideas, are held in the mind by the perpetual action and reaction of the 
soul, by which its own continued being and identity are preserved. Re- 
membering is re-cognizing; i. e., cognizing the fact' that we have before 
cognized the object that is now presented to us. Now, this is re-cogniz- 
ing only in relation to the first act of cognizing, but, in reality, it is 
nothing more than simply cognizing a fact by an idea, or category, pre- 
cisely like any other act of cognition. 

(See " Remembering," Division III.) 



THE INTELLECT. 425 

VI. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, sixthly, that it is the birth- 
place of Faith. Its facts, ideas, and categories are the material and 
ground of the faith of the soul in all things which are the original sub- 
jects of faith. These skeleton facts of the consciousness, these created 
ideas and categories of the reason, which are absolutely known and lie 
in amongst them, — these are that " substance of things hoped for," and 
that "evidence of things not seen," which Paul, with so much intuitive 
insight, calls faith ; i. e., they are the ground of faith. 

b. Faith poises itself on the absolute knowledge within, and spreads 
its wings for the attainment of relative knowledge without. We now 
stand a't the medium point in the progress of knowledge between the 
inner and the outer -world, between absolute knowing and relative know- 
ing, our faith resting on the former, and believiug in, and looking for- 
ward to, the latter, which we cannot, as yet, know. For while we have 
all the ideas, categories, and knowledges necessary to cognize the exter- 
nal world, we have so far no senses by which the Reason may come into 
contact with the objects of an outer world, in order to perceive and cog- 
nize them. 

c. We are compelled in our present condition to remain upon this 
Soul Island, between the knowledge of the inner and of the outer world, 
between absolute knowing, which is behind us, and relative knowing, 
which is before us, until the sense Observatory is formed and supplied 
with the apparatus of the five senses with which we may collide and 
sensate the things outside of the mind. Behind and below us are all the 
facts of consciousness, and all the ideas formed and built up from the 
first elements of being. We have all the means of interpreting the facts 
in the external world, if we could only come at those facts. We have 
the whole set of the categories or ideas of truth, and all the ideas and 
facts upon which they are based ; but we cannot use them for want of 
the instruments for reaching the outer world and the objects upon which 
to use them ; which instruments the sense alone can bring to us. 

d. What, then, is the point between these two worlds ; the world 
within and the world without, between absolute knowing and relative 
knowing, upon which we stand ? The reply is, It is the naked soul 
itself, built up of the facts of consciousness, and of the ideas and cate- 
gories of the reason, all of which we absolutely know. Here, with all 
the grounds of believing in an external world beneath, and in the posses- 
sion of the soul, it believes in the existence of an external world, and 
frames to itself a body and senses, and limbs afld members, for its use 
in discovering and exploring it. 

e. Faith here is not knowledge, but it rests on knowledge: i. e., it 
rests on absolute knowledge, which gives both the assurance of relative 
knowledge and the power of obtaining it. The soul knows itself a 

54 



426 AUTOLOGY. 

reality and an object in space, having essential individuality and essen- 
tial impenetrability : nay, it knows itself as essentially objective as 
well as subjective ; and hence, that objectivity is and must be ; and the 
possession of this knowledge, which it has by virtue of its own know- 
ingness, independent of the senses and of all external things, —this it is 
that gives it the ground of an intelligent belief in the existence of an 
outer world, which, as yet, it has not seen, though it has fully the power 
to know when it shall be provided with the senses. 

f. And so strong is the soul's faith in the existence of an outer world, 
that it forms to itself a body, as " Noah, moved with fear, prepared 
an ark ; " and, like that ark, it has a heaven and earthward-looking win- 
dow of the sense in it. 

g. What is faith ? We reply, It is the conclusion of the mind from 
the existence and nature of the known to the existence and nature of the 
unknown ; i. e., from "the substance [ground] of things hoped for " and 
from "the evidence of things not. seen," to the things hoped for, but 
not, as yet, seen. The outer world as such is, as yet, unknown ; for the 
mind has no senses by which to come into contact with it ; but it be- 
lieves in it, and prepares itself with senses with which to find and ex- 
plore it. 

h. Faith, therefore, differs from knowledge in this : viz., knowledge 
requires the presence of the thing to be known, while faith requires the 
absence of the thing which it believes. All faith rests upon absolute 
knowledge. I believe in the outer world, because I know with absolute 
certainty the being of the world within, and that the inner world has 
objectivity. I myself am objective and impenetrable. I know I am 
objective, because I am impenetrable ; and I therefore know that all 
things are objective, and that all objective things have impenetrability. 
As object I fill space ; I therefore know that all objects must fill space. 

i. Faith, therefore, in the objective world, rests upon, and is insepa- 
rable from, the original objectivity and impenetrability of my own soul. 
It is because I know absolutely that I exist and have impenetrability, 
that I am able to know that any other object exists in space. I can come 
into contact with another object only because I can first come into con- 
tact with myself. The reality of another thing is knowable to me, because 
I first know myself as real ; and this knowledge is the ground of my 
faith in an external world. I believe in the existence without, which I 
absolutely know within. 

j. It is also important here to point out the different relations of faith 
to the different kinds of knowledge ; to wit, faith always comes after 
absolute knowledge, and implies the presence of absolute knowledge 
and of its object as its ground of belief; but it always comes before 
relative knowledge, — i. e., the relative knowing of the thing believed in, 



THE INTELLECT. 42T 

and implies, and necessarily requires, its absence and the absence of its 
object as a condition of its existence. 

k. Now, this rock-built Island of the Soul, in the midst of the sea of 
being, is the birthplace and the home of Faith. 'How wide soever -faith 
may travel, and over how many seas soever it may sail, this rock of 
being*, built of first facts and first ideas, — this is its natal place and its 
eternal island home. Here it was born with the soul that gave it birth ; 
and here with that soul alone will it die, if die it must. 

I. Thus much have we given here of faith, indicating its true nature 
and position as an act of the Reason acting upon its own absolute knowl- 
edge as an eternal basis, and believing in the absent and unseen, and, as 
yet, unseeable world. 

VII. a. Of this Soul Island it may be said, seventhly, that it is the 
place whereon is created and erected the Watch-tower and Observatory of 
the sense, from which the soul looks forth upon the outer world around 
and the heavens above it. Here is formed the scientific appai'atus of 
the soul, the five senses, with touch, and smell, and taste for that which 
is near, and ears and eyes for the'high and the distant. 

b. This Soul Island, it must be kept in mind, is alive ; it is a living 
being, with spirit, life, and force, having soul and body. We have 
piled up the living island, layer upon layer, from the deep bottom to the 
surface of the sea of being, and it is now ready to have erected upon it 
the glass-domed tower and lighthouse of the body, whence with the 
many instruments of the senses, it may survey and examine the heavens 
and the earth. 

c. The island of the naked soul, though built of facts and ideas 
absolutely known, and though it is the source of all knowledge and of 
all faith, is yet but a poor, dark place to live in. To live there would 
be to remain deaf, and dumb, and blind, and insensible, though alive. 
We must put upon this naked soul the warm and sensitive covering of 
flesh and blood, and build upon it the high tower of the sense, with 
windows looking east and west, and north and south, — yea, and heaven- 
ward, too, — before we can make it a habitation of intelligence, and sun- 
light, and life for the soul. 

d. In other terms, we must erect on the primal strata of the soul — 
viz., will and affections, intellect and conscience — the tower of the 
Body, with nerves, and flesh, and bones, and heart, and lungs, and 
stomach, with hands and feet, and eyes, and ears, and taste, and smell, 
and touch ; then will it be able to cognize the world without, to gain 
new facts, new ideas, and new categories, and new beliefs, reaching all 
over the universe of God. 



428 AUTOLOGY. 

e. We now pass to the examination of the body, and the sense, and 
their relation to the mind. We shall then, being 1 fully prepared for it 
both by ideas of the reason and by organs of sense, show what relative 
knowing is. And then also we shall be in full position to show again 
what faith is, and what .its relation to relative knowing is, and how it 
builds itself anew in the results of relative knowing, and looks out upon 
the- absent and the unknown ; and in this way shall we complete the 
exposition of its whole nature, position, and functions. 



THE INTELLECT. 429 



DIVISION II. 

ABSOLUTE KNOWING, OR THE ORIGIN AND NATURE 
OF IDEAS AND OF THE SENSE. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE SENSE. 

THE CONSCIOUSNESS GIVES THE FACTS, AND REASON GIVES 
THE IDEAS, OF THE SENSE. 

SECT. I. THE NATURE AND FACULTIES OF THE SENSE, AND ITS 
RELATION TO THE BODY. 

A. a. The Reason is now qualified with ideas and knowledges of the 
knowable, called categories, to go out and cognize all objects in the 
world external to it ; but as yet it is as a man would be who was 
thoroughly educated and highly intellectual, but lacked locomotion, an*d 
was deaf and blind, and without the power of taste, or smell, or feeling. 
He might be ever so competent to cognize the universe of things, if he 
had any method of coming into contact with it, and of seeing, hearing, 
touching, smelling, or tasting after he had come into contact with it. 

b. Now, this is precisely the thing wanting to the reason at this 
point ; it wants the means of coming into contact with external objects, 
that it may perceive them, and then cognize, and then remember them ; 
then conceive, then classify them ; then ratiocinate and rhetorize about 
them ; then theorize, invent, and imagine from them ; then enhance them, 
beautify them, and theogonize and legislate from them. This want is 
supplied by the physical resistance and the five senses, which we shall 
now consider as the physical instruments, or antennae of the mind, as it 
is placed in a human body. 

B. What are the Steps in Obtaining a Knowledge of a Particular 

Thing ? 
a. In order that the Reason may now, with its ideas, obtain a knowl- 
edge of external objects, three things are necessary : — 



430 AUTOLOGY. 

' First. That it come in contact with 5 or be brought into contact 
with, the external object. This is done by the Sense. 

Second. That it perceive the object thus brought before it. This the 
Reason does by means of the Sense as its instrument. 

Third. That it cognize the object with which it is thus brought 
into contact, and which is perceived by it. This is done by the Reason 
in interpreting the finding of the Sense by the idea of the Reason ; i. e., 
interpreting the object, of whose presence it is made aware through the 
Sense, by the ideas of the Reason. 

b. This discrimination will lead us, in this section, to examine the 
Sense and its office, reserving it for the next division to ascertain what 
perception and cognition are. We shall then have external objects be- 
fore us, and be prepared for the further operations of the mind 

C. What are the Faculties op Sense ? 

a.' The Sense is the instrument of perception ; it is a physical instru- 
mentality, serving the purposes of the Reason in the perception and the 
cognition of external objects. As the Consciousness, on the one hand, 
furnishes subjective facts, the primary facts of being, to the Reason from 
within, so the Sense furnishes the outward facts of external nature to 
the Reason. The Sense is, therefore, a sensuous consciousness, and is 
composed of two parts: first, physical resistance, or impenetrability; 
and second, the five senses. 

b. The first of these is 'derived more directly from the primordial 
element, essential activity, and the second from essential intelligence, 
though each partakes of both in some degree. 

c. But by the essential activity the whole person is brought into 
contact with external objects, and thus shows itself impenetrable, or 
capable of physical resistance, and as having incompressibility. On the 
other hand, the essential intelligence, or consciousness, shows itself 
through the various fine coatings and sensitive and transparent mem- 
branes and nerves of the five senses. 

D, a. The Will, the Affections, the Intellect, and the Conscience, are 
the naked Soul, which, taking on body, as we shall see, reserves to itself 
the five senses as windows, lookouts, breathing-holes, through which 
they come into contact with the external world in its various phases and 
aspects. 

b. We come, then, to the question, " What is physical resistance ? " 
and the reply is, that it is nothing more or less than the natural impene- 
trability of all real objects, whether physical or mental, bodily or 
spiritual. This resistance is manifested when any two objects are 
brought violently into contact with each other. They then show that 
they cannot both occupy the same place at the same time. They may 



THE INTELLECT. 431 

be brought into collision with ever so great power, yet they will maintain 
their ultimate incompressibility and individuality, and will be mutually 
impenetrable. 

c. That which is true of bodies, as matter, is true also of minds, souls, 
or spirits ; for if two persons in human bodies were thrown into collision 
so frequently and so violently that their bodies should thereby be 
destroyed, and become invisible and intangible, still their minds would 
remain conscious, each of its own individuality, and the self-conscious- 
ness of the one would include and enclose itself, and repel and exclude 
the self-consciousness of the other, and they would thus retain their 
impenetrability, and stand distinct, the one over against the other. 

d. What, then, is meant by physical resistance, is the contact of two 
impenetrable and incompressible objects. This contact is physical 
resistance, and it is what we mean by perception ; that is, by it the 
Reason is made aware of the presence of an object ; an object which is 
impenetrable and incompressible, and which is, therefore, a real and 
substantial thing. 

E. a. What is perceived by physical resistance ? The reply is, that 
it is not the qualities of the thing which we thus cognize, nor simply the 
quantity, but the substance, the reality of the thing. 

b. Its qualities and its quantity, as such, do not appear until the five 
senses have applied the nerves, and their various sensations, and delicate 
antennae, to it ; but this they could not do ; for the violence of the con- 
cussion would stun and destroy them, if it was attempted to use them. 
It is only contact that we have here, not sensation ; physical resistance 
has no sensation ; but the five senses have both contact and sensation. 
This is the difference. Hence physical resistance discerns only substance, 
while the five senses perceive both quantity and quality as superadded 
to the substance already perceived. 

c. Moreover, physical resistance and the perception are made by the 
whole body, the whole person and soul as a whole, and by means of 
bringing its wholeness, its entirety, its impenetrability, into contact with 
the wholeness, entirety, and impenetrability of another object, and thus 
ascertaining by experiment that it, as well as itself, has a being, an 
impenetrable being, which is a whole and an entirety, utterly incompres- 
sible like its own : this is physical resistance, and this is that with which 
it is done, and that which is perceived by means of it. Physical resist- 
ance is made by the whole man, at once and as a whole, and the thing 
which it perceives is substance, or essence. 

d. This is the first part of the faculty which we have called " Sense," 
whose office is to afford facilities for perceiving ; that is, to bring objects 
before the Reason, that it may become aware of their presence. The 
second part of the faculty of the Sense is the five senses — seeing, hear- 



432 AUTOLOGY. 

ing, touching, smelling, and tasting. We next inquire, " What are the 
five senses ? " As.the senses are organs of the body through which the 
mind perceives and cognizes, it will be necessary first to answer another 
question, " What is body ? " or, " What is it to be embodied ? " and this 
will be the subject of the next section. 

SECT. II. WHAT IS BODY, AND WHY IS THE SOUL EMBODIED? 

A. a. The difference between being embodied and disembodied, as we 
call it, may not be just as it is commonly apprehended. . So may the 
possession and exercise of organs of sense differ from what they are 
ordinarily supposed to be. 

b. To have substance and impenetrability is to have body, or quan- 
tity, necessarily. 

c. To have an individuality, as opposed to and distinct from another 
individuality, is to have body necessarily ; and for one such body, 
whether flesh or spirit, to communicate with another body, is to exercise . 
what we name the organs of sense ; that is, it is to communicate with 
signs, as sound, tone, speech, motion, or pantomime, or by touch or 
contact, or by smell or taste. 

d. Body and sense, therefore, for the above reasons, belong to spirits 
as well as men. What other methods spirits may have, over and above 
impenetrability and the five senses, we know not ; but these they must 
have, as they have bodies. The body of anything is but its necessary 
form or mode of existeuce, adapted to its condition in air or in water, in 
earth or sky. 

e. For instance : a thought is in my mind. I write it on paper in a 
word with letters ; as the word " truth." Now, the written word 
"truth " is the body of the thought "truth ; " and so it meets the eye. 
I utter the word " truth," and the sound of that word is its body. I 
see that a straight line drawn from one point to another is the shortest 
distance between them ; and here I have another embodiment of the 
thought " truth." But if the thought " truth " may thus take on these 
different bodies, — the body of sight, the body of sound, or of touch, — 
according to its circumstances, then, surely, it is not wonderful that a 
soul should take on body, at any time, according to its circumstances. 

/. And as the thovight "truth" cannot be coriimunicated without a 
body, so a soul, in order to communicate with other souls and make 
itself known to them, must necessarily take on a body. A body, then, 
is indispensable, in order to converse between souls, and between souls 
and nature ; and so also senses, the five senses, are necessary in order 
to converse and communication between one mind and another. All 
souls, then, at all times, have, of necessity, some sort of body. 



THE INTELLECT. 433 

g. That body may be changed according- to circumstances : bodies 
are different in this life from bodies in the life to come, and the soul 
may possibly pass and repass from one to the other hereafter, as did 
Christ, and Moses, and Elias at the transfiguration ; but some sort of 
body souls must have. 

h. Indeed, impenetrability and individuality necessitate bod}-, and 
are body by virtue of impenetrability and individuality. All communi- 
cation between souls, or spirits, implies and necessitates senses ; for 
there can be no communication between distinct and independent self- 
consciousness, save by something analogous to the senses. 

B. a. The senses, then; are the several methods by which the mind, 
having a body, takes cognizance of external objects : they are points in 
the body where the intelligent and conscious soul will not allow itself to 
be entirely shut in, but where it covers itself with only such nerves as 
will least hinder and most facilitate its communication with the outer 
world. 

b. As the spirit naturally takes on body by virtue of its own living ac- 
tivity and intelligence, and by virtue of its own impenetrability and indi- 
viduality, and as each individuality is distinct, and seeks to know and 
communicate with other individuals outside- of it, it must, of course, 
have some method of intercourse, contact, and communication. 

c. And this is no more true of embodied minds than disembodied 
minds ; of minds in the natural, than in the spiritual world ; for the 
body is simply the form of the mind : all its parts serve the mind, and 
are such as the mind would naturally take on in such a life as this. It 
is all adapted to carry out the intents of the mind, and the will of the 
Creator here. 

d. Its provisions for sustentation and reproduction, as well as for 
seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, touching, thinking, and speaking, are 
all alike for the intents of the mind and the ends of being ; and the 
fact of the individuality and impenetrability of spirits renders it certain 
that they must have methods of both near and remote communication, 
and of carrying out their intentions analogous to those of man. 

C. a. " Moreover, it may" be here pertinently recalled as a further 
illustration of the nature of body and sense, and an independent proof 
of the original and generic difference between the human and the 
brute mind, that each takes on a body necessarily, according to its 
nature. 

b. The formative force of the body is the informing spirit ; and what 
the informing spirit is, that will the evolved body be. No one spirit, 
therefore, can have the body of another. The foot thrust into the soft 
clay could as well leave the imprint of the hand, as the brute mind 
thrust into clay, or covered with clay, could give the body of a man. 
55 



434 AUTOLOGY. 

Spirit takes on form ; mind takes on instrumentalities, necessarily ; and 
every spirit and every mind its own form and its own instrumental- 
ities. 

c. The human spirit is such in its structure and intelligence as natu- 
rally to demand and to need the use of such a body as the human body 
is, and therefore it takes it on. The human will, heart, reason, and 
conscience, need the brain, the hand, the voice, the stature erect, the 
limbs and feet, the eye and the lip, the brow, the cheek, and the counte- 
nance of man ; and therefore they have them. It is the informing spirit, 
that, by reason of its own life and motion, takes on the outward form, 
organization, and instrumentality of the body. Were the human spirit 
less or more than it is, it would have a different body ; but being what 
it is, it necessarily gives itself the body it has. The spirit speaks and 
acts in all the organism of the body. 

d. Just so the brute mind takes on the brute body, because the whole 
life and force of the brute are exhausted and brought out in such a body. 
If the brute mind were more, the brute body would be more ; but the 
brute has no use for voice, hands, or expression of countenance, and 
therefore has them not. It would be a detriment to him to walk erect. 
A brute could not, therefore, be made human by giving him a human 
body. The brute is not a soul imprisoned in an inadequate or a disa- 
bling body, but has a body adapted to all the mind it has. 

e. The demonstration of this position is, that he now actually has a 
brute's body. To assert that if the* brute had a human body, he would 
be human, is altogether an assumption ; brute body is proof of brute 
nature, as human body is of the human mind ; for it is the mind that 
makes the body, not the body t*hat makes the mind. This ought to 
settle forever the question of generic difference, the difference in kind, 
not in degree, between brute and human nature : they are totally and 
generically different in mind as in body. 

/. The human body has a hand because the human mind. has wit and 
cunning which require a hand to execute their designs. The human 
throat has a voice, and has articulation, because man has thought to 
utter in words to other souls, in furtherance of the great ends of being. 
These are the forces that produce these bodily instruments, and that use 
them when they are produced. Brutes have no such mental and spir- 
itual force within, to produce such instruments of body, and no such 
intelligent end for which to use them without; and therefore they 
have them not. 

D. a. Thus body accretes o.r crystallizes around soul, and takes the 
shape of the soul. It matters not where the soul is, in this world or in 
the world to come, amongst flesh and blood, or amongst angels in the 
world of immortality ; the soul would take on a corresponding body. 



THE INTELLECT. 435 

b. The elements of flesh and blood crystallize around the living soul 
in this world, and we have the soul as man in humanity. The elements 
of the immortal world crystallize around the soul which has left its 
earthly body, and we have souls as angels or immortals with what Paul 
calls spiritual bodies. And should the soul change again its location, 
and dwell in some other world beyond the immortal state into which it 
first enters after death, it might change its body again, leaving behind 
that which crystallized about it in eternity immediately after death, and 
taking on a new crystallization from the peculiar elements of the world 
to which it should go. This transition might not be by death ; doubt- 
less would not be with pain ; but would be a transfiguration such as 
Christ underwent on the mount. , 

E. a. Pertinent to this view of body and embodiment are the words 
of the philosophic Paul on the resurrection, 1 Cor. XV. 42, and onward. 
" So, also, is -the resurrection of the dead. It is sown a natural body, it is 
raised a spiritual body. There is a natural body, and there is a spiritual 
bod}''," as there are terrestrial bodies and celestial bodies; " howbeit 
that was not first which is spiritual, but that which is natural ; and after- 
ward that which is spiritual." Also at the 51st verse, " Behold, I show 
you a mystery : we shall not all sleep [i. e., die], but we shall all be changed, 
in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump ; for the trumpet 
shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be 
changed ; for this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal 
must put on immortality." And then in 1 Thess. iv. 13, the same 
apostle says, " I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning 
them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no 
hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also 
which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you 
by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive, and remain unto the 
coming of the Lord, shall not prevent [i. e., take precedence of] them 
which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with 
a shout, with the voice of .the archangel, and with the trump of God; 
and the dead in Christ shall rise first [i. e., go up with the Lord first] ; 
then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with 
them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air; and so shall we ever be 
with the Lord." 

b. Paul here, as both a philosopher and an inspired apostle, gives the 
true theory of the nature of the body, and of the relation of the body to 
the soul, and of the resurrection of the dead; viz., that the true resur- 
rection of the body is simply a change of the mortal body into a spiritual 
body, like the transfiguration of Christ on the mount, and the change 
that his body underwent as he ascended from the slope of Olivet into 
heaven, for as flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, his 



436 AUTOLOGY. 

body of necessity underwent the change, as he passed ont of sight, Gf 
which Paul in the above passage speaks. And just so the soul, on 
leaving the earthly or terrestrial body at death, may take on a celestial 
or a spiritual body, which immediately crystallizes about it in eternity. 

c. But if at the resurrection, as some hold, the souls of the departed 
come back to the earth and reassume earthly bodies before they 
finally ascend into heaven — that event may take place in this same 
way ; they may lay off their spiritual bodies and take on earthly bodies 
by growth, accretion, or crystallization, or otherwise, instead of gather- 
ing again the dust of the grave. Then as they reascend they would 
reassume their spiritual bodies; while the living would be "changed," 
ascending with them. 

d. Is it asked whether souls will identify and remember each other at 
the resurrection or in eternity ? The reply is, they most certainly will ; 
for individuals have their peculiarities from the soul, and not from the 
body — rather, it is the soul that gives the peculiarities of the body. 
Whatsoever crystallizes around any object always takes the shape of 
that object ; so the soul, when the body spiritual or the body terres- 
trial crystallizes around it, will show its own lineaments, traits, forms, 
and characteristics, and will of course be known in eternity after 
death, and on earth after the resurrection, by precisely the same char- 
acteristics b} 7 which it was known and identified when it first lived on 
the earth. This excepts all peculiarities that were merely accidental, 
and that grew out of immaturit}', or mutilation, or deformity, or de- 
fect. 

e. And still further, the genuineness and identity of the body resumed 
at the resurrection, as above described, will appear when we consider, 
first, that if the soul, having in it spirit, life, and force,. has power to 
grow a body upon itself, as the present living boify has power to grow 
a skin upon itself, then certainly the body taken on by the soul any- 
where must always be the same, modified only by local elements and 
circumstances. And secondly, if it be observed that the local elements 
entering into and forming the body in this world (the chief of which are 
oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, and nitrogen) are always the same, and are 
always present and available, then it will be readily seen that both the 
same forces in the soul and the same elements outside of the soul com- 
bine to form the insurrection bod} r , that formed the body at the first ; the 
identity of man's present and resurrection body is, therefore, not only 
practicable and certain, but does not require a regathering of the original 
body from the grave. While therefore the Anastasis or Resurrection of 
the New Testament may mean only living in a spiritual body beyond the 
grave, still the reunion of the soul with a human body, which is a favorite 
theory of some, is here provided for. 



THE INTELLECT. ■ 431 

F. a. If it be asked why rational souls aro embodied at all, in any 
way, the reply is, first, that all body is either essentiahor local. Essen- 
tial body is that which inheres in being itseif, from the simple fact that 
it exists, and is a reality, and not a phantom. This essential body any 
entity whatever has, and has necessarily, always and everywhere. -It is 
the necessary objectivity and impenetrability that belong to, and make 
the realit3 r of, all being. 

b. But besides, and over and above this essential body, there is a 
local, contingent body, which is given by the place inhabited, and whose 
purpose is adaptation to that place and the facilitating of well-being in 
that place. 

c. Such is man's, human or earthly body ; it is his earthly tenement, 
machine, and vehicle, which accommodates him to his earthly condition, 
and facilitates his earthly well-being. This bod}' is not essential or 
necessary, but local and contingent, and may be, and must be, laid aside 
when it has served its purpose. 

G. a. If the question then be raised, " Why are rational souls em- 
bodied in earthly bodies ? " the reply is, that God embodied souls for the 
same reason that he created the worlds. God saw fit to manifest his 
wisdom and power in creating the physical universe. It was the good 
pleasure of God thus to embody and exhibit his wisdom and power. 
We infer, therefore, that wisdom and power, good will and benevolence, 
could best be manifested in this way. For the same reason rational 
souls are embodied ; viz., that they may be manifestations of God's wis-' 
dom, power, and good .will. 

b. Moreover, when God had made the physical universe, then it was 
needful that rational souls, who were to inhabit it, should have bodies 
adapted to their earthly habitation, and made of the same materials. 

c. And still further, as God's own wisdom and power could best be 
manifested by creating the physical universe, so, also, could man's soul 
be best housed, provided for, and manifested, by having an earthly 
body ; for in the body the soul takes phenomenal shape ; and in the 
body the soul lives a life, has a career, and fulfils a destiny. In the 
body, character becomes a form and fixture. Thoughts become things, 
and purposes become deeds. The soul is harnessed to human relations, 
and being and life become a manifested and tangible reality. 

II. a. If it be asked, " What is the use of a body ? " the reply is, 
that the body is man's citadel. It gives proprietorship, it gives property, 
it gives privacy and seclusion. The body gives the power of protection 
and acquisition. 

b. The body is man's castle, combining palace, legislature, cathedral, 
university, fort, arsenal, magazine, engine, and vehicle, with all ammuni- 
tion, arms, stores, implements, and apparatus, for thought and action of 



438 AUTOLOGY. 

every kind ; as authority, law-giving, worship, education, defence, ac- 
quisition, engineering, communication, and transportation. 

c. In short, it is the place and the instrument for carrying out every 
purpose of the mind and every end of living ; and, the Creator being 
judge, it is the best place and the best instrument for the well-being and 
manifestation of the soul ; else would he not have embodied the soul. 

I. a. Moreover, not only use and advantage, not only good will and 
benevolence, are embodied, and facilitated by embodying the rational 
soul in an earthly body, but thereby the soul takes form, gives forth and 
manifests its form ; and form is the material of beauty : but beauty is 
the form that expresses an excellence. 

b. The soul, therefore, the most excellent thing that God has made, is 
embodied, that the highest excellence in the creation of God may be 
embodied, and thus that the highest beauty may exist. The original 
body of the original and unfallen soul, which God created in Paradise, 
was the highest possible model of beauty in the universe ; for it was the 
most perfect form expressing the most perfect excellence. 

SECT. III. THE UNION OF SOUL AND BODY. 

Article I. Does the consciousness give us absolute knowledge that the 
soul inhabits the body, and wields its senses and its members according to 
its own will ? 

a. To this interrogation it is replied, that we have the direct and 
absolute affirmation of the consciousness, first, for the independent exist- 
ence of the soul, and, secondly, for its inhabiting the body, and control- 
ling its senses and members. 

b. It must be borne in mind that we are still in the realms of Absolute 
Knowing ; and that, while the operations of the faculties, when the 
mind is complete, and acts as a whole through the senses and the cate- 
gories, give us only relative knowing, the operations of the reason and 
the consciousness, in constructing the mind and in forming categories, 
give us always absolute knowing ; and that, because the knower and the 
known are identical. 

c. We have already formed the mind, or { rather, discovered the facts J 
of its structure, and built them up as a coral island in the midst of the 
sea of being. All this was done by the consciousness, which gave us 
the facts of the soul's nature a'nd being by an absolute knowing. 

d. Upon these facts the reason formed its original, necessary, and 
universal ideas by an absolute knowing ; and from these ideas con- 
structed the universal and necessary categories of all being and knowing 
with the same absoluteness of knowledge ; and, lastly, converted these 
same ideas and categories into the basis of its faith in that which is 
unseen and distant, by the same act of absolute knowing. 



THE INTELLECT. 439 

2. a. Coming', then, directly to the question, "Does the mind know 
that it has a body, and that it wields that body according to its will, by 
an absolute knowing ? ". We reply, that the mind does know absolutely 
that it is in a body, and that it wields it for its own purposes, and that 
by the same faculty by which it knows any other fact absolutely ; viz., 
the consciousness. 

b. But if the consciousness is able to affirm absolutely that the mind, 
or soul, has a body, and wields its senses and members at its will, must 
it not, of necessity, be identical with that body ? (for absolute knowing 
requires that the knower and the known be. identical). They certainly 
must have an identity; and this brings us to the point immediately 
before us ; viz., the union of the mind with the body. 

c. For the understanding of this union we have already prepared 
the way by the discussion in the preceding section on " Body and 
Embodiment." We are now ready to see how the union of soul and body 
is effected, and how the consciousness can affirm, by an absolute know- 
ing, that union ; for it is the consciousness itself that takes on body ; 
the consciousness is conscious that it is embodied, and that it uses and 
controls that body for its purposes. 

d. ' The consciousness having affirmed the soul's being, irrespective of 
the body, and whether the body exists or not, now affirms that it is 
within a body, and that that body is a part of itself. The consciousness 
affirms that the body is a vital growth upon the soul, a covering which 
is ever forming upon it, and is ever rising out of its own spirit, life, and 
force, as the skin grows upon the body ; and that the body springs as 
much and as necessarily from the life of the soul as the skin does from 
that "of the body. 

e. The consciousness affirms that the body is a part of the soul in the 
same way that the skin is a part of the body ; that is, the body is a 
part that grows upon the soul and out of its own life, and that wears 
off and is changed perpetually for a succeeding one. As the skin is 
worn off by attrition, and replaced by another from within, so the whole 
body may slough off from the soul, and be succeeded by another body, 
formed from within, which shall be adapted to the world which the soul 
inhabits. 

/. The consciousness affirms this : that while a body is always a 
necessary growth upon the mind, still this mortal body may be put off 
for a " spiritual body," as Paul says, at any time ; and that the change 
of the body does not imply the death of the soul, any more than the 
change of the skin implies the death of the body. 

g. Moreover, the affirmation of the consciousness as to the life of the 
soul, distinct from the body and independent of it, is confirmed by the 



440 . AUTOLOGY. ' 

well-known physiological fact that the body actually changes all its 
particles regularly, and completes that change once in about seven 
years, so that the soul which has lived on the earth seventy years has 
actually changed its body ten times, and has its eleventh body. , 

h. Now, if the soul can live and maintain its identity through ten 
changes of body in this period of its earthly life, who shall say that any 
mere change of body is any proof of the death of the soul ? or that the 
apostle was wrong when he said, "We shall not all sleep [die], but we 
shall all be changed," — changed from an earthly to a spiritual body. Who 
shall say that the eleventh change may not be the dropping of the whole 
body at once, which we call death, and the taking on of a spiritual body 
in another world ? Who shall say that a body may not grow out of and 
on to the soul in another world, just as it grew out of and on to the 
soul in this world ? 

i. But here we have to do with present consciousness only, and the 
one question is, " What does present consciousness affirm ? " We reply, 
that the consciousness in the mature man, after having affirmed that it is 
itself an essential element of the soul, and that it, with the other ele- 
ments, constitutes the soul an entity, having spirit, life, and force, inde- 
pendent of the body, affirms also the following facts : — 

Article II. a. The consciousness affirms the mind and body as distinct 
and united. 

1. That the mind is embodied. 

2. That it is inside, and has control of, a physical and material body, 
which has life and force. 

3. That this body, while vitally connected with the mind, is yet dis- 
tinct from it. 

4. That the soul has an existence of its own, having spirit, life, and 
force, and that it takes on the body as a habitation, protection, and an 
instrument of use, and as a phenomenal mode of existence. 

b. This consciousness of being embodied gives the body as a whole, 
and as a unity vitally connected with the soul as an overgrowth, and as 
permeated by the same life and activity, and held in the same conscious- 
ness with the soul ; so that there is a real unity and an actual identity 
of the soul and the body in one being, life, and consciousness. 

c. The mind is conscious that the body is its body, and that this body 
grows out of its nature and faculties, and is adapted to them. It is con- 
scious that its own impenetrability and individuality make it, necessarily, 
objective, and quantitative, and, of course, a body occupying space; and, 
then, that its own spirit, life, and force grow a body, are always putting 
forth a body, as trees grow a bark and leaves ; and that as the leaves 



THE INTELLECT. 441 

and bark of one year fall and slough off, and the life of the tree is ever 
and unceasingly growing new bark and new leaves, and, in fact, new 
fibre of wood also, so the soul is ever growing a new body in all its parts. 

d. Thus is the soul identical with the body, not by reason of its 
being of the same nature, nor by reason of having always the same 
body, but by reason of its power and tendency to be perpetually grow- 
ing and taking on a body. 

e. We say "growing and taking on," in carrying out the figure; 
but we do not affirm by what means the soul takes on body, whether 
by growth, acc'retion, or crystallization : yet we see no difficulty in either ; 
for, as the soul has in it all three of the elements of being, viz., spirit, 
life, and force, it has in it the power of taking on body of any kind as 
•a matter of growth, because animal life has only the two elements of 
life and force, and no spirit, and it has the animal body ; andinanimate 
nature has only force, with no life and no spirit, and yet it exists in the 
bodily 'form of material nature. 

/. If, therefore, life and force may produce the animal body in the 
animal world, and mere force has body in the inanimate world, why may 
they not in the mental world, where they exist with spirit or soul ? The 
soul of man has, then, by virtue of the life and force that are in it, power 
to grow a body upon itself. 

g. And this is the fact ; the soul has power to grow, accrete, or 
crystallize a human body around itself by virtue of the properties which 
are in it ; for it has in itself all the properties of anim'al nature, and 
inanimate nature also, besides being a spirit. Spirit nature has in it, not 
only spirit, but also life and force ; it can, therefore, accommodate itself 
to the forms of both brute life and inanimate nature. 

h. Thus the soul is conscious of its own embodiment ; and the con- 
sciousness asserts, with the certainty of absolute knowledge, that the 
soul has a body and lives within it, and controls and wields its members 
and senses for its own purposes. 

Article III. The mind has a Spipjto-sensuous Consciousness of its 
bodily system. The soul is minutely conscious of its bodily coverings ; and 
the consciousness affirms each of them distinctly as a part of its covering, 
and a part of the machinery which it manages and employs for its own 
purposes. 

1. a. In the first instance, the soul is conscious that it exists within, 
and has next to itself, and under its first and immediate control, the 
nerves. While the consciousness affirms the soul's being as distinct 
and independent, it also affirms that the first outgrowth, accretion, or 
crystallization, which it takes on, and with which it covers itself, is that 
of the nerves, or the whole nervous system. This system consists of 
56 



442 AUTOLOGY. 

the brain, -the spinal cord, the ganglia, and the conduits of motion and 
sensation. 

b. It affirms, also, that by this subtile and spirit-like material, it lays 
hold on all the other parts, organs; members, machinery, and imple- 
ments of the body, and thereby sends out action or receives sensation, 
and thus is in sympathy with all, or holds control over them all. 

c. The soul is conscious, not that it is the nerves, or that the nerves 
are it ; but it is conscious that it takes on the nerves, either b} r growth, 
accretion, or crystallization, as its first covering ; and that its own spirit, 
life, and force have a unity of action and an identity of consciousness 
with them ; and that upon the nerves, and in harmony with them and 
around them, all the other parts and systems of the body are formed by 
growth, accretion, or crystallization.. 

d. The nerves reach out, as a matter' of consciousness, to all parts, 
organs, members, senses, and extremities of the body ; and, by means ' 
of them, the mind controls and manages all joints, bones, muscles, mem- 
bers, and senses of the body, and uses them for its purposes. 

e. That the soul is thus within a nervous system, all minds are con- 
scious, and some are most painfully aware ; and that this nervous sys-. 
tern is the immediate covering and instrument of the mind by which it 
operates and controls all the rest of the body, all minds are also fully 
conscious ; and as the nervous system is a growth, accretion, or crystal- 
lization upon the soul's own conscious being, there is, of course, a unity 
of consciousness between the soul and the nervous system ; so that the x 
consciousness, in affirming it, is self-conscious ; and if self-conscious, 
then the knower and the known are identical, and the knowing is abso- 
lute knowing. 

. /. Thus the embodiment of the soul in nerves, or the ongrowth, ac- 
cretion, or crystallization of the nerves upon the naked soul, forms, by 
the union and blending of soul and nerves, a spirito-sensuous conscious- 
ness which lays hold of the soul on the one side, and of the body on 
the other. This consciousness is both spiritual and sensuous, mental 
and bodily ; uniting and unifying, combining and identifying, the soul 
and body in one consciousness and in one being. 

g. This spirito-sensuous consciousness, growing out from the soul 
through the atmosphere and rays of nerves, becomes the spirito-sensu- 
ous mould of the soul, upon which the body is formed, or taken on, by 
growth, accretion, or crystallization. The rays of nerves go out from 
the brain, spinal cord, and ganglia, to all the organs, members, and 
parts of the body, reaching to the surface and the extremities at every 
point ; and thus they give out from the mind itself, by an involuntary 
sympathy, or schematism, the nature and form of the body. 

h. These same nerves, which seem to be formative, or schematizing, 



THE INTELLECT. . 443 

in the constructing of the body, are also the electrical wires for carrying- 
volitions from the will to the senses and members, and for 'carrying sen- 
'sations back from the extremities to the mind. With this spirito-sen- 
suous consciousness as a formative principle, the mind proceeds to take 
on additional parts and forms of embodiment ; viz., — 

2. a. The second fact of the soul's embodiment which the spirito-sen- 
suous consciousness gives is that of Nutrition. All persons are con- 
scious of hunger and the appetite for food, and of the sustenance which 
food gives to the body and the mind. 

b. All the different systems of the body receive sustenance from the 
nutritive system, consisting of the stomach together with the masticatory 
and digestive organs. This system of nutrition is taken on for the sus- 
tentation of the nervous system already existing, and for that of all the 
rest of the body; and, as such, it is a distinct matter of consciousness, 
and is absolutely known. 

3. a. The third fact which the spirito-sensuous consciousness gives 
of the embodiment of the mind is that of Palpitation and Pulsation of 
the heart and the blood-vessels, called the pulsatory or circulatory sys- 
tem. This system- acts in furtherance of the ends of nutrition, and does 
the work of distributing the nutritive and vital fluid over the whole 
body, to all its parts, organs, and members. 

b. Of this system and its operations all persons are distinctly con- 
scious ; and the consciousness affirms its existence with an absolute 
knowing, as it is a growth, or accretion, on the nervous and nutritive 
systems already existing, — all of which are held in the same unity with 
the soul, and are affirmed with the same identical consciousness, and 
are, therefore, absolutely known. 

4. a. The fourth fact given by the spirito-sensuous consciousness of 
the embodiment of the soul is that of Respiration, or the respiratory 
system, consisting of the lungs, the windpipe, and the nostrils. Of no 
fact are we more conscious than of this. It gives us our vital breath ; 
and its suppression, for a moment, gives the acute and distressing pain 
of suffocation, while its cessation would be death. The soul itself takes 
its name from respiration, and is called spirit, or breath. 

b. The respiratory system also operates, in connection with the nutri- 
tive system and pulsatory or circulatory system, in support of the body; 
for its office is to purify the blood which the heart sends through it, 
by contact with the air which it inhales, that it may the better serve the 
ends of nutrition. 

c. The consciousness gives the respiratory system as a growth, or 
accretion, upon the preceding systems, and as held by it with them in a 
unity of consciousness, and, of course, as known absolutely. 

5. a. The fifth fact of the embodiment of the mind, given by the 



444 v AUTOLOGY. 

spirito-sensuous consciousness, is that of the Reproductive System, by 
which the human race is perpetuated in existence. 

b. Paternity and the relation of fathers and mothers to children, with 
all their provisions, form too large a portion of human experience and 
life, and enter too much into the joys and sorrows of the world, to 
need any specific discussion or setting forth in this place ; yet it should 
be observed, that though the mind and the body are totally distinct and 
diverse in their nature, in this world they never exist apart ; and 
though the mind is spirit, life, and force, while the body is nothing but 
mere force ; though the body is material, and the soul is spiritual ; and 
though they are totally and eternally distinct, the soul ever being im- 
material spirit, while the body is matter, and purely material in all re- 
spects ; — yet have they their beginning and growth in the self-same 
process, organism, and time. 

c. All human beings had a beginning. That the human race had a 
beginning, and is not self-existent, is demonstrable from the fact that all 
self-exiiitent beings must exist necessarily ; and if necessarily, then they 
exist perpetually, for the same reason that they exist at all ; but the 
human i^ace can, in the exercise of its own freedom, be exterminated by 
war and suicide ; therefore it is not self-existent. 

d. Moreover we have a more sure proof that the human race had a 
beginning from the fact that each human being except the first (which was 
created by God) had i^3 beginning in the free will and intent of human 
parents. In the exercise of this intent in accordance with their physical 
condition, parents produce, in the first instance, a mind, or soul, a naked 
soul, having in it the three original elements of spirit, life, and force, and 
being constituted, or made up, of an embryo will, affections, intellect, 
and conscience. 

e. With this mind, or soul, produced by the intent of human parents 
according to the conditions of physical life, there is produced, also, by 
the same identical process, the germ of the human body with which the 
soul is inseparably blended in the same original form, and with which 
it embodies itself; i. e., the embryo soul embodies itself in the embryo 
body, and both grow together to maturity. To whatever elements modern 
science may be able, by anatomy or chemistry, to reduce human life, and 
how much soever it may seek to find a common basis for all forms of living 
beings, and no matter whether that basis be called protine, blastema, pro- 
toplasm, or simply germ or seed, nor whether it be found to exist in egg, 
organ, .nucleus, tissue, sac, or cell, yet the fact must ever stand out con- 
fessed, and never be forgotten, that nothing but human beings can be the 
parents of human beings, and that the original and first parents of the 
human race were and could be created only by a personal and Almighty 
God. The distinction remains eternal and indestructible that the nature 



TIIE INTELLECT. 445 

of man (no matter what it may be called) contains in its elemental state 
spirit life and force ; while that of animals and plants have only life and 
force, and no development can ever make them spirit. 

6. a. The sixth fact of the embodiment of the mind given by the 
spirito-sensuous consciousness is that of the Osseous System. This com- 
prises the whole framework of the body with all its bones, cartilages, 
and joints. 

b. Of the possession of this bony structure and this jointed machine, 
we have the fullest consciousness ; and as all the preceding systems are< 
ongrowths upon one another and on the nervous system, by which they 
are all penetrated, so is this osseous system a growth upon them all ; for 
over all of them it builds a framework for protection and use. 

c. The nervous system has its chief masses in the skull and the spinal 
column, the chest, shoulders, and pelvic bones, which enclose the vital 
organs of the nutritive, circulatory, respiratory, and reproductive sys- 
tems ; while the whole of them are provided with locomotion by the 
legs and feet, and with manipulation by the arms and hands. 

d. The consciousness here gives the unity of the mind with the osse- 
ous system, and affirms their existence and movements as identical : the 
self-same act of consciousness gives both. The whole osseous system 
is a growth, accretion, or other formation, upon the preceding systems, 
all of which grow upon the nervous system, which is the soul's first 
covering. The nervous system inhabits all other systems, as the soul 
inhabits it. 

t. a. The seventh fact of the embodiment of the soul given by the 
spirito-sensuous consciousness is that of the Muscular System. The 
muscles are the cords, covers, bandages, padding, and supports of the 
bones and joints of the osseous system. 

b. Of nothing is man more conscious than of his power over his own 
muscles and members ; and the members of the body, whether hand or 
foot, or any other member of the body, are all moved by the muscles. 
These muscles are controlled by the nerves going out from the brain. 

c. The consciousness of exerting nerve-power through the muscles 
and of their putting forth .voluntary action, achieving the ends of the 
will, is one of the most familiar and frequently occurring facts in the ex- 
periences of men. The soul. here shows perpetually both its connection 
with and its power over, and its existence as distinct from, the body and 
all its organizations. 

d. In nothing does the consciousness more clearly and absolutely 
affirm the soul as an agent acting behind the body, than when, through 
nerves, it reaches muscles, and through muscles, moves joints, and bones, 
and members, and, through them all, performs and achieves the intents 
of the will. 



446 AUTOLOGY. 

e. Here the consciousness asserts, and by experience exemplifies, the 
soul as distiuct from the body, the soul as master of the body, the soul 
as free in its action through the body, and the soul, at the same time, as 
united with the body, as being identical in one and the. same conscious- 
ness with the body. 

f. Here soul and body show at once their unity and their distinct- 
ness, their severalty and their identity ; and thus do we know, by the 
absolute knowing of a self-affirming consciousness, the being and unity, 
the distinctness and identity, of the soul and the body, and that the soul 
inhabits and rules the body. 

8. a. The eighth fact of embodiment given by the spiri to-sensuous 
consciousness is that of the Cutaneous System, by which the whole 
body is enveloped in one covering of skin, and adorned and trimmed 
with hair and nails. At the surface of the body there is acute sensa- 
tion, though shielded by the cutaneous formation. 

b. The consciousness is perpetually conscious of this outer covering, 
with all its delicate texture and sensibility, as the last and most beauti- 
ful over-robe of the soul, binding all in one complete whole, unit} 7 ', and 
life. 

c. Here embodiment is complete. Here the soul has its perfect cov- 
ering, habitation, vehicle, engine, and home. It lacks yet only the 
senses. By eight successive accretions the soul comes to its perfect 
embodied state. These successive accretions are each and all affirmed 
by the consciousness, and by it identified with the soul itself ; so that, 
in affirming them, the affirmer and the affirmed, the knower and the 
known, are identical, and the knowing is, consequently, absolute 
knowing. 

d. By means of these several accretions upon the soul there is 
formed a spirito-sensuous consciousness, which is both spiritual and sen- 
suous, mental and bodily, united and unified, combined and identified in 
one knowing and one individual. 

e. These spirito-sensuous consciousnesses, as already given at length, 
are as follows : — 

1. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Nervous System. 

2. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Nutritive System. 

3. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Pulsatory System. 

4. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Respiratory System. 

5. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Reproductive System. 

6. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of an Osseous System. 

7. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Muscular System. 

8. Spirito-sensuous consciousness of a Cutaneous System. 



THE INTELLECT. 447 

/. By all tiiese successive spirito-sensuous consciousnesses the soul 
makes and affirms its union and identity with the body. They take 
cognizance of facts within the body, and reach back into the soul. 

g. These spirito-sensuous consciousnesses are so many ligaments that 
bind the soul and body together ; they are so many bridges that span 
the gulf between matter and the mind ; theyare so many electrical cur- 
rents that pass under the sea, connecting the continents of being from 
beneath; and they are so many rainbow arches joining them together 
through the heavens above ; thus uniting soul and body, matter and the 
mind, in one consciousness, and in one being and life. • . 

Article IV. The soul not material, nor the body spiritual. 

a. Let no one say that the foregoing positions make the soul mate- 
rial, or the body spiritual ; for it fixes the eternal distinction, and differ- 
ence, and individuality of each ; yet it binds and unites them both in 
one identical being and living. 

b. Let it here be distinctly noted that the power of the soul to take 
on a material body does not make the soul material, any more than the 
power of man to build himself a house makes him material. 

c. Let it also be noted that the adaptedness of matter to become the 
body, or covering, of the spirit, does not make matter spirit, any more 
than brick and mortar become spirit, because of their adaptedness to 
become, or to be made into, a habitation for man. 

cl. But, on the other hand, let it be observed that spirit and matter, 
soul and body, are adapted to each other, and that it is the nature of 
the soul to take on body, as we have seen, either by growth, or accre- 
tion, or crystallization, or in some other way. 

e. And further, the soul, as a fact, has a body ; and the body, as a 
fact, has a soul ; and as a fact, these two are bound together and made 
identical by consciousness — a consciousness -which is spirito-sensuous, 
and which lays hold on both spirit and matter, and blends them into one 
identity of being, by means of all the systems of sensation, of vitality, 
and of force, that make up the human body. 

/. Let it be strictly noted that this union of soul and body is a fact 
in consciousness and in experience ; and that the fact does not make 
the soul material, nor the body spiritual ; and that, therefore, to say that 
the soul naturally takes on body, and that body grows, accretes, or 
crystallizes, or in some other way forms itself upon the soul, naturally, 
always and everywhere, is not to make the soul material, nor to make 
the body spiritual. 



448 AUTOLOGY. 

Article V. Having thus completed the several systems by which the soul 
builds upon itself the tower of the body, we now come, in the last place to 
erect upon it the observatory of the senses. 

1. a. The first sense, and the foundation sense, of the embodied soul, 
is that of Physical Resistance. It is given by the body, as a whole, by 
means of its essential impenetrability. 

b. It is because the human mind and body have an individuality, 
reality, and impenetrability, which must, of necessity, occupy its own 
place in space, and its own period in time, and because no other object 
can occupy the same space at the same time, that it is possible for it to 
distinguish the sensation of the moment from itself on the one hand, and 
from the external object on the other ; and this is physical resistance, 
or impenetrability, and is, not only the first of the senses, but is the 
sense without which no other sense Can be the means of distinguishing 
any external object, or be able to lead to any knowledge of an external 
world. 

c. The office of physical resistance, therefore, is, manifestly, to give 
us the reality and impenetrability, and, consequently, the substance of ex- 
ternal objects. This having been clone, they are before the mind for 
closer inspection by the other senses. The office of physical resistance 
is to give the substance, while that of the other senses is to give the 
quality, of objects. 

2. a. The second sense is that of Touch. This begins what are 
called "the Five Senses," or the senses proper; yet the sense of phys- 
ical resistance is of the same character, giving the reality and substance 
of things, while the remaining sense's give the qualities of things ; and 
must of necessity, therefore, be received, not only as one of the senses, 
but as the first. 

b. But, after the sense of physical resistance has given the knowledge 
of the reality and impenetrability of an object, then the soul, having 
covered itself with nerves, and having covered those nerves with organs, 
and bones, and muscles, and skin, comes to the surface in sensuous con- 
sciousness through those nerves at the points of the senses. 

c. All the senses are points of spirito-sensuous consciousness on the 
surface of the body, as in the hand, the tongue, the nostril, the ear, the 
eye, where the nerves protrude and are not covered with other matter. 

d. The five senses are all based on the sense of physical resistance, 
and are a part of it. They, consequently, make a twofold affirmation in 
each sensation. They, of necessity, affirm the substance, as well as the 
quality of objects ; for they, as a part of the one whole of the individual, 
who, by impenetrability, has affirmed the substance of objects, have 
still the consciousness of that impenetrable substance of objects, the 
quality of which it is their especial office to give. 



THE INTELLECT. 449 

e. Moreover, the quality of an object is as real as its substance, and 
as objective ; hence the sense affirms both the real objectivity and the 
subjective sensation of the quality of an object. The sense of touch, 
therefore, being a part of the original sense of ph} r sical resistance, as 
well as a specialty in itself, affirms the existence of an outer world; 
i. e., it affirms that it touches something, and that it is not merely 
conscious of a sensation. 

/. It affirms itself, or the self, as conscious of its own distinct and 
separate individuality ; and then it affirms that it touches an external 
thing. The basis of all sense-perception is the essential impenetrability 
of the perceiver, standing as a first fact affirmed by the consciousness, 
in physical resistance. 

g. This being done and settled, the soul, through the nerves that 
form the organs of touch, comes into contact with external objects, and 
affirms the facts which it meets as real and objective ; and it affirms, 
not simply that something external is (for this physical resistance has 
already done), but that that something is hard, soft, smooth, rough, 
long, short, round, square, crooked, straight, cold, hot, pointed, or 
blunt, &c, &c. 

h. Thus touch affirms qualities or properties in material objects as 
its peculiar office ; yet this knowledge can never be affirmed until the 
me and the not-me, subjectivity and objectivity, are first affirmed by 
physical resistance. 

3. a. The third sense is that of Taste. In this sense the soul rises 
to the surface by means of the nerves which line the palate, and there 
comes into contact with sapidity of food and other objects. 

b. This sense is a spirito-sensuous consciousness, which, having its 
basis in physical resistance, and being a part of it, affirms, first, the 
existence of the mind and the body, and then the sensation of sweet, 
sour, or other flavor which an object produces on the palate. 

c. Taste affirms thus the me and the not-me, and then the taste of 
the not-me. This taste of the not-me is a quality of it ; and this quality 
has an objective reality just as much as substance has ; and the spirito- 
sensuous consciousness affirms both the sensation of taste and the object 
tasted as distinct entities. . 

4. a. The fourth sense is that of Smell. This sense, like all others, 
is based on that of physical resistance, and is a part of it. By means 
of the nerve protruding through and lining the inner coating of the 
nostrils, the spirito-senuous consciousness affirms the reality and impene- 
trability of the self, and the reality of the odorous object before it. 

b. The odorous object consists of particles in the air : the source 
whence these odorous particles come, is, of course, known only by 
observation. The sense of smell thus affirms the odor before it, as a 
57 



450 AUTOLOGY. 

quality or thing distinct from the sensation of smell, of which it is 
conscious. It affirms the objectivity of the quality, and the subjectivity 
of the sensation. 

5. o. The fifth sense is that of Hearing. The sense of hearing 1 , like 
all the other senses, rests upon the basis of the general sense of physical 
resistance, and is a part of it. 

6. In hearing, the spirito-sensuous consciousness affirms the impene- 
trability of the person who hears, and the actual objectivity of the object 
heard. The object heard is the undulations of the air ; the thing which 
causes these undulations is known only by experience. The conscious- 
ness affirms the resonant quality as objective and real, and the sensation 
of that quality as subjective and real, and always distinguishes between 
the objective resonant quality and the subjective sensation of it. 

6. a. The sixth sense is that of Seeing. In this sense the nerves 
protrude to the surface in a most wonderful and delicate manner in the 
formation and structure of the eye. 

b. The sold by the spirito-sensuous consciousness of sight takes cog- 
nizance of external objects, with which it is brought into contact by the 
rays of light proceeding from them. The sense of sight being, like all 
the other senses, a part of physical resistance, and based upon it, -affirms 
the existence and impenetrability of the self, or person, whose sense it 
is ; so that the person is conscious that it is his eye that sees, and his 
seeing that sees ; it then affirms the presence of the luminous object 
before it. 

v. The cause of the light can be known only as a matter of experiment 
and obseiwation ; but the fact of the presence of light in different 
degrees and forms is affirmed as distinct from the mere sensation of light 
in the eye. 

d. The sense of sight, like the other senses, affirms quality ; but 
quality has a reality as much as substance has a reality. Hence the 
senses all affirm the real objectivity of the qualities which they sensate, 
as well as the subjectivity of the sensation with which they sensate 
them. The sensation is within ; the quality is without. 

Article VI. Executive Organs. 
a. After the various systems of embodiment are complete, with all 
their organs and all their members, and after the senses are complete, 
with all their curious, exquisite, and wonderful contrivances, there seems 
still to be needed some sort of executive apparatus for bringing the 
whole body into actual objective action. This is supplied bj^ the addi- 
tion of three distinct members, or organs, which, in view of their 
office, we call executive organs. 



THE INTELLECT. 451 

b. Those three organs stand so much alone that they have not been 
treated elsewhere as parts of general systems, and are as follows : the 
Organs of Locomotion ; the Organs of Manipulation ; the Organs of 
Vocalization. 

These organs are muscular and voluntary. Their chief office is, walk- 
ing, working, and speaking, in carrying - out the intents of the mind. 
They have separate offices, yet all work together for the same end. They 
are all alike under the control of the will, through the nerves. 

The Organs of Locomotion. 

These are made up of the lower extremities ; viz., the feet and legs, 
with all their bones, joints, cords, and muscles. The office of these 
organs is the support and transportation of the body, according to the 
dictates of the will, giving man an erect posture, with countenance look- 
ing upward, with motion of grace and bearing of authority, as lord of 
this lower world. 

The Manipulatory Organs. 

a. These consist of the hands and the arms, with all the joints, bones, 
cords, muscles, fingers, and nails. The human hand is altogether human, 
and almost divine. It is the physical instrument of almost all mother 
wit and useful inventions; so that "sleight of hand," "handiwork," and 
dexterity and adroitness, have become the synonymes of all shrewdness 
and sagacity. 

b. By means of the hand, more than by any other organ, does man 
make good the assertion of his sway over nature, and get the mastery 
of her forces. By the cunning of his ten fingers and his supple wrist 
does man carve out, execute, and embody the inventions of his mind, 
and carry out and perform the intents of his will ; and he is master of 
all things, not more by what his brain can think than by what his hand 
can skill to do. 

The Vocal Organs. 

a. The chief organ of speech is the larynx, although in speaking 
other organs are employed ; as a whole, the apparatus of speech and 
vocal utterance consists of the lungs, the larynx, the cavity of the mouth, 
the tongue, the teeth, and the lips. The larynx, however, is the especial 
organ of articulate sound and language, and as such is one of the most 
peculiar and wonderful organs 'of the human body, one of the most 
curious instruments of the mind, altogether sui generis. 

b. Speech is the chief form of human expression, and one which man 
alone possesses. The modes of expression may be divided into two 
general forms; viz.: The first form of expression is that of attitude, 



452 AUTOLOGY. 

gesture, and the movements of the face, and symbolic and written signs. 
The second is (1.) that of inarticulate sounds, as of joy and fear, weep- 
ing and laughter, &c. ; (2.) Articulate sounds, as in spoken language; 
(3.) Music, which is a combination of both articulate and inarticulate 
sounds in harmonious numbers. 

c. A part of the first general mode of expression, as attitude, ges- 
ture, and facial movement, and a part of the second, as sounds of joy, 
fear, and singing, man has in common with beasts and birds ; but the 
making of symbolic and phonetic signs, as in emblems, in written lan- 
guage, and in music, and the making of articulate sounds, as in spoken 
language, are the prerogative of man alone. 

d. .For inventing symbols, and emblems, and musical signs, man alone 
has reason ; for writing, he has the human hand, most wonderful in its 
mechanism and cunning; for oral speech and articulated language, man 
alone has the larynx, which, with the palate, the tongue, and the teeth, 
constitutes the organs of articulation, and the physical apparatus of 
speech. 

e. This physical apparatus for speaking is all that demands our atten- 
tion here as a part of the body and bodily organs peculiar to man. It 
is because man has a soul first that he has a body at all ; and it is be- 
cause he has facts, thoughts, and ideas to express, that he has the gift of 
speech and the organs of articulation with which to express them. He 
has a hand to write, because he has the thoughts of a rational soul to 
express in writing. 

f. Brutes have no use for hands or voice ; they have no thoughts to 
express, and therefore have not these physical and bodily organs with 
which to express them. Thus is man distinct from the brute both in 
body and in mind ; and he is distinct in body for the reason that he is 
distinct in mind. The organs of articulation are one of man's most' 
peculiar and characteristic bodily endowments, as the power of express- 
ing his thoughts and wishes in written language and in oral speech is 
one of his divinest gifts as a rational soul in the image of God. 

This completes the work of the Consciousness in giving the facul- 
ties of the mind and the organs of the body. We here 'Subjoin a schedule 
of the Sense, including the successive systems of the body, the senses, 
and the executive organs. 

I. Bodily Systems. 

1. The Nervous System. 2. The Nutritive System. 3. The Pulsatory 
System. 4. The Respiratory System. 5. The Reproductive System. 
6. The Osseous System. 7. The Muscular System. 8. The Cutaneous 
System. 



TUE INTELLECT. 453 



II. The 



1. Physical Resistance. 2. The Sense of Touch. 3. The Sense of 
Taste. 4. The Sense of Smell. 5. The Sense of Hearing. . 6. The 
Sense of Sight. 

III. The Executive Organs. 

1. The Locomotive Organs. 2. The Manipulatory Organs. 3. The 
Vocal Organs. 

SECT. IV. THE RELATION OF THE SENSE TO KNOWING. 

A. The Relation of the Body to Mental Manifestation. 

a. We have shown the body to be the necessary mode of the soul's 
manifestation ; that the body is the soul's embodiment; and that its various 
parts and members show the soul's nature' and power, and that through 
them it achieves its purposes. Some of the members of the body are 
under the control of the will ; some are involuntary, and act neces- 
sarily. The mind employs the various voluntary members of the body 
for their appropriate purposes ; the stomach for nutriment, the feet for 
locomotion, the hands for work, the head for thought, and the senses 
as modes of communication between the mind within and the world 
without ; while the heart, and the lungs, and the digestive organs move 
on regardless of the action of the will. 

b. The body and the head, the countenance and the general make and 
bearing of the body, express and represent the mind. The brain, large 
and well adjusted, and accompanied by a good nervous and vital system, 
and a good body generally, and with good surroundings, ought to indi- 
cate, and usually does indicate, great mental power. It is true, as a 
rule, that a good physical organism throughout covers a good mind. 

c. The relation of the brain to the mind is well known, and certain 
conformations are well understood ; so, also, the relation of large lungs, 
a healthy stomach, a stout frame, and firm muscles, to the mind, is well 
known ; the relation of a nervous temperament to mental activity is well 
known ; but science is yet in its infancy in regard to these things. The 
plrysiologists have done something towards showing the relation of 
Serves and other systems of the body to the mind, and the phrenologists 
have done something, and physiognomy has done a little. 

d. The subject is important, as it bears on the great question of the 
relation of the mind to its body and to all matter ; and especially as it 
bears on health, physical development, and meutal education. As com- 
parative mental development depends on bodily organization, health, and 
perfectness, so, also, that suppressing and dwarfing of the mental facul- 



454 AUTOLOGY. 

ties which we call idiocy, depend en the body, and especially the brain 
and nerves, and the physical system generally. 

e. Idiocy is occasioned by malformation of the brain and body. This 
shows the vast importance of knowing and regarding physical organism 
and the relation of body and brain, and health, to the mind. 

f. The same is also true in reference to insanity ; though insanity, 
as to its cause, comes under the head of diseased affections rather than 
of defective or malformed intellectual faculties. The subject of insanity 
has, therefore, been treated under the head of the affections, as idiocy is 
here named under the head of the body. 

B. What is perceived by means of the Sense? 

a. The reply to this is, that by physical resistance. we perceive the 
substance of objects, and by the five senses we perceive the qualities of 
objects. By seeing, the intellect sensates form, color, and motion of a 
distant object. By hearing, we sensate the sound of the motion of an 
object, whether inanimate, animate, or rational, of which we may, or may 
not, know the existence by any other sense. By touch, we sensate both 
the form and the motion, or vibration, of an object within reach. By 
smell, the odor of an object is known. By taste, the flavor of an object 
upon the tongue and palate is made known. 

b. These are all necessary forms of intelligence, by which alone the 
reason can come into contact with the various aspects of an object, and 
by which an object, in its own various aspects, is brought before the 
reason for cognition. Now, the sensation of each particular sense gives 
a 'modified perception ; though perception does not depend on sensa- 
tion, but on physical contact, and exists before sensation takes place, 
or can take place, yet each of the five senses gives a modified per- 
ception. 

c. Perception by means of the senses contains both a contact and a 
sensation. These, united, afford the means of a perception of an exter- 
nal object, by which that object is not known, but simply brought be- 
fore the reason for cognition. The senses bring diverse objects before 
the reason, and enable it to perceive and cognize both the quantity and 
quality of objects ; while mere physical resistance has only contact, and 
hence can bring before the reason nothing but the impenetrability, or 
the substance, of the object. 

d. Thus have we a sensuous apparatus, by means of which the rea- 
son can perceive the whole of an object, and not simply a part of it. 
We may make both the substance and the qualities of an object matters 
of a sensuous, and experimental, and tangible knowledge. . We per- 
ceive substances, as we do qualities, by sensuous contact and objective 
experiment. 



THE INTELLECT. 455 

e. The reason cognizes substance, just as it cognizes quantity and 
qualities; viz., by applying its ideas to it, and by interpreting that 
which physical resistance brings before it, with an idea already pos- 
sessed, just as it interprets that which the five senses bring before it. 

/. The reason perceives substance by physical resistance as truly, 
directly, and really, as it does quality by the five senses ; indeed, more 
so ; for it cannot perceive quality until it has first perceived substance, 
because the only way of showing that those sensations which denote 
qualities are not the mere illusions of a sensation which may be entirely 
subjective, is by showing that physical resistance has, by its mere con- 
tact, without any sensation, given us, in the first instance, substance, as 
a substantial and impenetrable essence.; and that, then, the object being 
thus before the mind and in the grasp of the sense, the five senses may, 
by their five varied sensations, perceive its qualities, and present them 
to the reason for cognition. But should all impenetrability of physical 
objects, as given by physical resistance, be shown to be illusory, still the 
respective self-consciousnesses of two minds, or spirits, each affirming 
and enclosing itself and excluding the other, would prove the reality of 
substance and the impenetrability of objects, and set it beyond all pos- 
sible dispute. 

C. May there be more than five Senses? 
a. Why there should be five senses, we can well see ; but why there 
should be no more, is not so obvious. That we have no sense for 
perceiving spirits we know ; but whether, to perceive them, we need 
a new sense, or only a quickening, or sharpening, or enlarging of 
one or all of those we now. have, Ave cannot tell ; if, however, the 
notions of body and of embodying above given be correct, then it would 
seem that no new sense would be needed, but only a modification of 
those now possessed. We have already shown that the same phys- 
ical resistance which demonstrates to human beings that they mu- 
tually exist and have a separate and distinct individuality, presence, 
and reality, would also, if they were disembodied, show to them mutu- 
ally the existence, distinct individuality, presence, and reality of their 
souls. Indeed, the only reason why contact and physical resistance 
does not now reveal and demonstrate soul to soul, is the fact that the 
body is in the way. Why, then, may not the same senses which we 
now have exist in a modified form in the disembodied soul, and serve 
its purposes in eternity? Obviously souls unembodied, i. e., souls with 
spiritual bodies, must have means of communicating with other souls 
analogous to those possessed in this world. The necessity of organs 
analogous to those of the senses of the human body inheres in the very 
nature of individual being itself, and is inseparable from it. Separate 



456 AUTOLOGY. 

souls must have the means of mutual intercommunication, and those 
means must be analogous to human senses. 

b. We now have no means of knowing the presence or person of 
any spirit but that of the Holy Ghost ; and that we know only as he 
manifests himself through the truth to our consciousness by means of 
the reason, conscience, and the affections. In what way God as a spirit 
may manifest himself to our senses as our Creator and the Creator of 
the universe, we shall hereafter see. 

The Intellect is now complete, having attained all its facts, all its fac- 
ulties, and all its ideas, as well as all its bodily organs, all its senses, 
and all its categories of knowing. As a knowing faculty, therefore, com- 
posed of Consciousness, Reason, and Sense, it is now fully armed, 
able to wield the categories of the reason and the organs and members 
of the body in the exploration of the universe and in the search for knowl- 
edge. We are now ready for going forth into the outer world in the ex- 
ercise of all the faculties of the mind and senses of the body in relative 
knowing. 



THE INTELLECT. 457 



DIVISION III. 

RELATIVE KNOWING. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE NATURE OP RELATIVE KNOWING. 

SECT. I. THE DISCRIMINATION AND USE OF RELATIVE KNOWING. 

a. Having now completed the work of absolute knowing, we come 
to the field of relative knowing 1 . Absolute knowing we have found to 
be that knowing in which the knower and the known are identical ; 
consequently the field of absolute knowing is the faculties themselves 
that know absolutely ; viz., the consciousness and the reason. 

b. Hitherto we have been working deep down in the caverns of the 
soul with the faculties of consciousness and reason. We have followed 
the processes of the mind's formation and development, the origination 
of its being and faculties. We have marked the first knowings of the 
consciousness, giving the primary facts of being. We have noted the 
first comprehendings of the reason as it formed its ideas out of the facts 
of consciousness, and have explored the depths of the mind. We have 
seen how the mind is formed, how it educates itself, and supplies itself 
with absolute knowledge ; and we have seen that all the knowledge 
thus far has been obtained by the consciousness and the reason, and is 
absolute knowing. 

c. The consciousness and the reason have known facts and ideas ab- 
solutely, and facts and ideas that were absolute things ; such as self- 
consciousness, reason, liberty, and all necessary facts, relations, and 
ideas. And now, rising from these sub-sensuous depths, and having 
formed to itself the skyward and earthward windows of the senses, the 
reason looks out upon the outer world, which it now seeks to know. 
Heretofore, the knowing has been sub-sensuous and absolute ; hereafter, 
it will be through and by means of sense, and will be relative knowing. 
In absolute knowing, we cognize subjective facts by the consciousness, 
and form ideas and categories by the reason. In relative knowing, we 

58 



458 AUTOLOGY. 

know by means of the senses and the categories ; i. e., by means of the 
categories we cognize the objects which the senses present to us. 

d. It will be remembered that absolute knowing takes place when 
the knower and the known are identical, and is hence confined to the 
mind's knowing itself. Relative knowing occurs when the knower and 
the known are diverse ; and hence all knowing of objects other than the 
mind itself is relative knowing. 

e. The mind qualifies itself for knowing the world, external to itself, 
by absolute knowing ; but it actually knows the external world by 
relative knowing. 

The reason, which has hitherto been smelting facts and moulding them 
into ideas, and forming them into categories deep down in the internal 
forge and laboratory of the soul, is now provided with all the facts, 
faculties, ideas, and categories, and all the members and senses of the 
body, and is ready to go forth into the outer world to explore its terri- 
tories, to ascertain its facts, and to possess itself 'of all knowledge in 
respect to it. 

/. By the knowledge of the knowable which it has already attained, 
as ideas and categories, through absolute knowing, the Reason will now 
enter upon its work of relative knowing, and will acquaint itself with all 
things external to it. It will do this through the sense, by the following 
operations; viz., believing, perceiving, cognizing, remembering, conceiv- 
ing, abstracting, generalizing, classifying, ratiocinating, rhetorizing, 
theorizing, inventing, imagining, embodying, enhancing, perfecting, 
fancying, or depreciating, theologizing, and legislating. 

SECT. II. THE RELATION OF THE OPERATION OF THE REASON, IN 
RELATIVE KNOWING, TO THE AFFECTIONS. 

a. All action of the human mind springs from the original and primor- 
dial element of essential activity. This enters into the self and will, as 
we have seen, and then develops into the affections. This is the principle 
of life, and in a loose way is often called " self-love," "the first law of 
nature." We call it, in its centre and essence, "essential activity," or 
" life force ; " and it is, in all its modifications, that which gives the in- 
terest to act and the force to do something. It is thus the essential life 
force of the soul, and, in all its forms and developments, is that which 
impels us to action, and gives us force to achieve ; hence all our 
impulses to know, and all our interest to know, arise from this essential 
activity of life force in some of its modifications. 

b. We may not be able to give precisely the impulse to each act or 
operation of cognition, but to some of them the impulse is very obvious 
and definite, because the act and object of such operation of the reason 



THE INTELLECT. 459 

is very definite and distinct, while other operations of the reason are of 
a very general nature, and, of course, can be assigned to only a general 
impulse. Yet to all operations of the reason there is some sort of im- 
pulse, and one that is homogeneous with the operation itself. The essen- 
tial activity was in itself sufficient to give the basis of the power of choice, 
but for further action it becomes developed into the affections, as we 
have seen, and it is with reference to the several classes of these affec- 
tions, in a particular or general way, that these operations are put forth. 
c. These operations go forth in reference to the several classes of the 
affections with more or less directness, and report to them. For in- 
stance, perceiving, cognizing, conceiving, classifying, remembering, and 
ratiocinating go forth into action by means of the essential activity, but 
report themselves and their doings to the individual affections for the 
most part. But rhetorizing, theorizing, and inventing, while they are 
impelled by the essential activity of the mind, report chiefly to the 
social, patriotic, and philanthropic affections ; and imagining, embodying, 
enhancing, perfecting, fancying, or depreciating, acting also from the origi- 
nal and essential activity, report their doings naturally to the sesthetical 
affections. Theologizing goes forward as an operation of the reason 
from the essential activity, but reports its doings to the religious affec- 
tions ; and, lastly, legislating is impelled by the original activity of the 
mind, but is reported to the ethical susceptibility; i. e., the conscience. 

SECT. III. WHAT AEE THE COMPARATIVE CERTAINTY AND RELI- 
ABLENESS OF RELATIVE KNOWING AND ABSOLUTE KNOWING? 

a. Having thus sufficiently examined the field of absolute knowing, and 
that as a means of educating and qualifying the mind to know relatively, 
we now come out to the field of relative knowing, which is the whole 
universe external to the being and faculties of man. 

b. Here we find that the terms absolute and relative apply, not to 
being, but to knowing; and hence absolute being may be known rela- 
tively, while relative being may be known absolutely. We shall find 
that while some absolute facts, relations, and ideas come under the head, 
or within the field, of absolute knowing, yet the absolute God comes 
within the field of relative knowing ; for absolute knowing is confined to 
those things in which the knower and the known are identical, while 
all else comes under the head of relative knowing ; the former being the 
office of the consciousness and the reason alone, while the latter requires 
also the faculty of the sense. 

c. The answer to the question, " What are the comparative certainty 
and reliableness of relative knowing and absolute knowing ? " will re- 
quire the consideration of three things, viz. : — 



460 AUTOLOGY. 

I. What is the ultimate ground of all reality, or the ultimate ground 
of the certainty of all knowledge. 

II. What is the ground of the reliableness of the categories by which 
the objects of sense are cognized. 

III. What is the proof of the reality of the objectivity of the objects 
of sense. 

I. What is the ultimate ground of all reality, or of the certainty of all 
knowledge ? 

a. The human mind is not capable of knowing anything with greater 
certainty than it knows itself. Self-knowing, therefore, or self-conscious- 
ness, must be the ultimate ground and standard of all reality and of the 
certainty of all knowledge. In self-knowing, the knower and the known 
are identical ; but the knowing in which the knower and the known are 
identical is absolute knowing ; therefore self-knowing is absolute know- 
ing. Self-knowing is, then, the ground and guaranty of the certainty of 
absolute knowing. 

b. But, since self-knowing is the ground of the certainty of all know- 
ing, it must follow that whatever is known by means of self-knowing 
must be as certainly known as the self is known ; and this is the case in 
relative knowing ; for while in absolute knowing the knower and the 
known are identical, in relative knowing, the knowing of the object is 
identical with the knowing of ourselves ; the first is an identity of being, 
the second is an identity of knowing. The certainty of absolute know- 
ing lies in the identity of the being of the knower and the known ; the 
certainty of relative knowing lies in the identity of the knowing of the 
external object with our self-knowing. 

c. It may here be observed that all the faculties are of supreme 
authority in their respective spheres. The faculties of the intellect are 
the consciousness and the reason with the sense. Each is the ultimate 
authority in its own department. As the consciousness is ultimate in 
the department of facts, so is the reason in that of ideas. Neither of 
them admits of any proof. The sense is only an appendage of the reason 
and consciousness, and rests on the same ultimate basis for certainty 
that they do. 

d. All attempts, therefore, to prove the reliableness of the conscious- 
ness by the consciousness, or of the reason by the reason, are simply 
bringing a man's own testimony to prove his own veracity ; each is ulti- 
mate and supreme in its own department. 

e. There is, however, confirmation in supporting the testimony of 
one faculty by the testimony of another when both testify to the same 
thing, and both are admitted to be competent and credible witnesses in 
their respective departments. And this is the case with the conscious- 



THE INTELLECT. 461 

ness and the reason. They each know absolutely in their respective 
spheres. The consciousness knows primary facts absolutely, and the 
reason knows original ideas and categories absolutely, because, in each 
case respectively, the kuower and the known are identical. 

/. If, then, these two kinds of knowing could be combined in one, 
that one knowing would partake of the certainty of both ; for instance, 
if the consciousness should affirm, with an absolute knowing, that a par- 
ticular fact is, and the reason should affirm, with an absolute certainty, 
that the. same fact must be, we should thereby have two witnesses to 
the same fact, giving double certainty, provided always that these two 
witnesses had an established reputation for truth and veracity, for com- 
petence and credibility, beforehand. 

g. But if they had not this established character beforehand, the 
agreement of their testimony would be worth no more than that of any 
other two incompetent and incredible witnesses on any other subject ; 
hence we cannot go back of the simple affirmations of the consciousness 
and of the reason in their respective capacities for the certainty of our 
knowledge. 

h. How the mind can begin to know, is one of the fundamental ques- 
tions of this book, and of all mental science. We have shown that all 
knowing must begin in the essential intelligence, or consciousness ; this, 
therefore, is the ultimate ground of all certainty in knowledge. We 
have shown that all ideas are formed from facts of consciousness ; and 
hence, while the reason is ultimate in its sphere, and the truth that its 
ideas are real ideas is established by its own .absolute knowing,' yet 
that its ideas are ideas of real things is ascertainable only by show- 
ing a fact of consciousness out of which each one is formed, and upon 
which each one is based. 

i. So also the sense, which is an appendage of the consciousness and 
the reason, affirms a real resistance and a real sensation ; but the proof 
that such resistance and sensation are the resistance and sensation of 
real objective things, rests for its ultimate certainty on the fact of a 
self-conscious impenetrability within, which has been already ascertained 
and established by the self-consciousness as first existing. 

j. This self-consciousness is the ultimate and only ground of the cer- 
tainty of all knowledge. Thus my own self-consciousness affirms my 
own personality, and this irrespective of any external world. I, with 
my own individuality and impenetrability, am, in the next instance, con- 
scious of a collision with the external object; I am conscious of colliding 
with and of being collided with by an external object. 

k. But is it still said that this consciousness of collision is all merely 
subjective, and cannot, therefore, assure us of the existence and reality of 
an external object ? To this it is replied, that this act of collision, which 



462 AUTOLOGY. 

gives me the consciousness of an external object, is the same that gives 
me the consciousness of myself as colliding and being collided with. If, 
therefore, the consciousness of an external object, which 1 thus experi- 
ence, is fallacious, then must the consciousness of colliding* and being 
collided with, which I experience, be also fallacious ; for it is occasioned 
by the same collision, at the same time. 

I. I am as strongly and clearly conscious of the one as of the other, 
nor do I ever have the one without the other ; the self-same collision 
always gives both. And this experience, too, be it observed, is not that 
which gives me the consciousness of my own individuality at the first. 
That is given alone originally, without reference to any being but my- 
self; it is the affirmation of spontaneous consciousness. 

m. But this consciousness of colliding and being collided with is the 
affirmation that my original self-consciousness receives a contusion from 
without ; and this consciousness that I am a self must first exist before 
I can be conscious of such a contusion. It is therefore demonstrated 
that the affirmation of the reality of external things by the consciousness 
is reliable, and not fallacious. 

n. In relative knowing we have the affirmation of the sense to facts, 
and we have the reason, by its ideas and categories, comprehending and 
interpreting those facts : the two combined give us relative knowledge ; 
and that knowledge has the testimony of both the sense and the reason 
to its truth. 

o. The reason then falls back upon the original facts of consciousness 
as the proof that its ideas are the ideas of real things, and that real 
things actually exist. Thus all proof of reality lies in the consciousness 
as its ultimate basis. Relative knowing is, therefore, just ascertain and 
reliable as absolute knowing, as it is confirmed by absolute knowing in 
both its forms. 

II. What is the ground of the reliableness of the categories by which 
the objects of sense are cognized ? 

a. The answer to this question will be made obvious when we recall 
what has been so often shown ; viz. : — 

(1.) That all relative knowing is interpretative; i. e., a translation 
from one language into another, or that it is explanatory, or a proving, 
showing the meaning of the unknown by the known. 

(2.) That the ideas of the reason formed from the facts of conscious- 
ness are the language into which the objects in the field of relative 
knowing are to be translated, or the known things by which they are to 
be explained, the known figures by which they, as the unknown x which 
represents them, are \p become known and definite quantities. 

b. Now, the knowing by which the facts of consciousness and the 



THE INTELLECT. 463 

ideas and categories of the reason are known, is absolute knowing ; that 
is, the reason is educated and qualified by an absolute knowing- of the 
facts of consciousness and the ideas of the reason, to translate the ob- 
jects in the field of relative knowing- into the language used, known, 
and vernacular in the field of absolute knowing: so that, while the 
operation of knowing by which the reason knows the objects in the field 
of relative knowing (i. e., all the universe external to itself) is relative 
knowing, the knowing by which it was qualified to exercise relative 
knowing was absolute knowing ; and the known things by which the 
reason is able to explain the unknown are absolutely known — absolute 
knowledges. 

c. Hence, as already shown, there must first be absolute knowing 
before there can be an} r relative knowing; and there must be known 
things already possessed before we can know unknown things. Now, 
these known things, which it is first necessary to possess in order to 
know unknown things, are not only absolute knowings, but they are the 
original known quantities and known language of the soul, and of all 
souls, and of all angels, and of God, necessary and universal ; and they 
are known absolutely ; and with these already in possession, the reason 
is qualified and able to know relatively everywhere. 

d. Then, as to the nature and comparative certainty of this relative 
knowing, we see that it is only an exercise of the faculties and qualifica- 
tions of absolute knowing, and that, of necessity, it is just as certain, 
reliable, and true, as they are — no more and no less. 

e. Relative knowing is only the exercise of the reason, employing the 
facts which the consciousness has given it by an absolute knowing, and 
the ideas and categories which itself has formed, by an absolute know- 
ing, from those facts, in cognizing facts external to itself. If, therefore, 
it cognizes at all, it does so by the exercise and use of absolute knowl- 
edge; therefore, not only the certainty, but the very existence, of relative 
knowing depends on absolute knowing, and partakes of its nature. Rel- 
ative knowing is necessarily just as certain as absolute knowing. 

f. The man who would translate English into German must needs know 
both languages, 'and his translation would be just as correct as was his 
knowledge of the two languages, and just as reliable. So the reason, 
in translating the objects external to it, lying out in the field of relative 
knowing, must know both languages ; that is, the language of absolute 
knowing and that of relative knowing, the language of the internal 
world and that of the external ; this it has already learned by an ab- 
solute knowing. 

g. The consciousness has already given it facts, so that it knows facts. 
The reason has already comprehended those facts, and thus given to 
itself ideas and categories ; and thus it has already both languages; viz., 



464 AUTOLOGY. 

the language of the soul and the language of sense — of the inner and 
the outer world — the language of facts and of ideas. 

h. With these it goes forth into the outer world, and cognizes all its 
objects with a relative knowing by the knowledge which it has attained 
by an absolute knowing ; and hence it is manifest that the same cer- 
tainty, the same truth, and the same reliableness, attach to relative 
knowing that belong to absolute knowing ; for relative knowing is but 
absolute knowing in the exercise of the facts, faculties, ideas, and cate- 
gories, which it knows absolutely. 

III. What is the proof of the reality of the objectivity of the objects 
of sense ? 

a. The knowledge by which the reason translates the findings of the 
sense being thus shown to be absolute knowledge, and thus to be a 
guaranty for the certainty and reliableness of relative knowing, the next 
point to be secured is the absolute certainty and reality of the objectivity 
of the objects sensated by the sense. 

b. The sense has two departments : (1.) Physical resistance, whose 
office it is to know the actual presence of substances by means of their 
impenetrability, and (2.) the five senses, whose office it is to know the 
presence, and to distinguish the nature, of qualities. 

(1.) a. Physical resistance is the same as impenetrability; i. e., it 
is impenetrability that gives us the power of physical resistance. We 
have the knowledge of our own impenetrability, in the first instance, by 
force of our own spontaneous consciousness without the contact of any 
external object. The soul thus knows itself as an object^ and as having 
a place in the objective world. 

b. But the knowledge of my own impenetrability, which is given to 
me from within, is not enough to give me a knowledge of the impene- 
trability of an object without, unless there be contact also of my own 
internal impenetrability with the impenetrability of the object without. 

c. It is thus by means of the consciousness of my own impenetrability 
within, derived not alone from my own consciousness within, but given 
and forced upon me by contact with the impenetrability of an object 
from without, that I have the knowledge of the presence and impene- 
trability of an object without, and external to, and distinct from, myself. 

d. When, therefore, the soul, which is first conscious of its own im- 
penetrability from within, so comes into contact with an external object 
as to find its own impenetrability resisted, it then and therebj' comes to 
a knowledge of the impenetrability of the external object ; and let it be 
observed that the collision by which the soul finds its own impenetrabil- 
ity, or physical resistance, resisted, is the self-same collision that gives 
it the knowledge of the impenetrability of the external object. 



THE INTELLECT. 465 

e. Let it be observed also that there could be no consciousness of an 
external impenetrability without first being possessed of the consciousness 
of an internal impenetrability; but, having this conscious impenetrability 
first, we, by means of it, infringe upon, and collrde with, an objective 
impenetrability, and detect, and distinguish, and affirm its existence as 
a reality. The same collision, therefore, that gives me the knowledge 
of the impenetrability of an external object, gives me the knowledge of 
the impenetrability of myself; and it, consequently, gives me the 
knowledge of the external thing as certainly and as reliably as it gives 
me the knowledge of myself. 

f. Let it be noted further, that, in knowing or being conscious of an 
external object, I am conscious of three things : first, I am conscious of 
myself; second, I am conscious of the external object ; and third, I am 
conscious that I am conscious of them. Thus all is embraced in one act 
of the faculty of consciousness, by which it affirms both itself and them; 
and, of course, all are known with equal certainty ; viz., the certainty 
with which I know my own existence. 

g. Relative knowing is absolutely certain, because thereby absolute 
knowing demonstrates itself; i. e., in absolute knowing, the knower and 
the known are identical, and the impenetrability of an individual is self- 
affirmed ; but in relative knowing, the impenetrability of the individual 
demonstrates its own reality, which is already known by self-conscious- 
ness, by impinging upon, and colliding with, the impenetrability of an- 
other individual. When the object collided with, and impinged, is 
another person, who feels his own impenetrability collided with, then 
the two persons can make mutual recognition of their respective impene- 
trabilities ; but when the object collided with is not a person, but a 
thing, then the proof of its objectivity, impenetrability, and reality, is 
the fact that the collision with it reaffirms my own impenetrability, which 
I knew before by the absolute knowing of my own consciousness. 

h. If I had not known my own impenetrability and reality by the ab- 
solute knowing of my own consciousness beforehand, then the conscious- 
ness (if it could have existed) of collision with an external object could 
not have proved to me that an external object really exists apart from 
myself; but when I first know by an independent knowing, a knowing 
that is absolute in its nature and certainty, that I actually do exist, and 
am actually impenetrable, then does the consciousness of impinging upon 
an external object actually prove the existence, objectivity, and reality 
of that object, and demonstrate also my own individuality, impenetrabil- 
ity, and reality. Hence, in this act of knowing, my own self-conscious 
impenetrability demonstrates itself; and, by demonstrating the reality 
of itself, it demonstrates the reality of an external object. 

i. In this act, therefore, so far as my own conscious impenetrability 
.59 



466 AUTOLOGY. 

demonstrates itself, the knower and the known are identical, and the 
knowing is absolute ; but so far as my own conscious impenetrability, 
by colliding with an exterior object, demonstrates the objectivity and 
reality of that object, the knower and the known are diverse, and the 
knowing is, consequently, relative knowing. But inasmuch as this ab- 
solute knowing and this relative knowing are produced by the same act 
of the mind, — i.e., inasmuch as my own conscious impenetrability 
affirms, or rather reaffirms, by collision, its own reality, and, by the' 
same collision, affirms the reality of the exterior object, — the knowing 
of the latter is just as certain as the knowing of the former ; for it is 
through, and by means of, reaffirming the known reality of myself that 
I am able to affirm, in the first instance, the reality of an external 
object. 

j. The knowing, however, by which the mind's own reality is. af- 
firmed, is absolute knowing, because knower and known are identical ; 
but the knowing, by which the reality of the external object is affirmed, 
is relative knowing, because the knower and the known are diverse ; 
yet both knowings have the same absolute certainty. 

k. Each of the five senses is a part of the first sense of physical re- 
sistance, and is based upon it ; and, consequently, each sense affirms, — 
first, the real impenetrability of the person ; second, the real objectivity 
of the quality sensated ; and third, the subjectivity of the sensation 
itself: thus all its affirmations are based on absolute certainty. The 
fact that external objects are actually before the mind is thus affirmed 
absolutely. 

I. Having thus an absolute knowledge of the categories by which 
external facts are translated and relatively known, and having thus ab- 
solute knowledge (knowledge resting on evidence absolutely known) 
of the actual presence of external objects, the mind is prepared to cog- 
nize external objects by a relative knowledge which has all the certainty 
of absolute knowledge. (See Section IV., on the Sense.) 

SECT. IV. WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ABSOLUTE KNOW- 
ING AND KNOWING THE ABSOLUTE ? 

a. In answer, it maybe said that absolute knowing is the same every- 
where, and is, always and everywhere, simply self-knowing ; i. e., we 
know absolutely only when the knower and the known are identical. 
Hence an absolute which is subjective to the mind may be known by 
absolute knowing ; while an objective absolute must, if .known at all, be 
known by a relative knowing. 

b. If, in absolute knowing, the knower and the known are identical, 
and if, in relative knowing, the object known must always be present, 
and if the knowing that is exercised iu the absence of the object is only 



THE INTELLECT. 467 

believing 1 , the question arises, How can we know the Absolute ? Can we 
know it at all. In absolute knowing we know only the subjective ; in 
relative knowing we know only the phenomenal. How, then, can we 
know the absolute ? Is the absolute phenomenal ? 

c. To this it is replied, that all things, both those which Kant calls 
noumena (i. e., essence, substance, cause, self, will, spirit), and phe- 
nomena (i. e., things that appear and are tangible to the senses), are 
alike phenomenal in their respective spheres. A noumenon is phenome- 
nal to a noumenon in the world of noumena, just as a phenomenon is 
phenomenal to a phenomenon in the world of phenomena; i. e., a soul 
is phenomenal to a soul in the world of souls, or a spirit to a spirit in 
the world of spirits ; just so a cause is phenomenal to a cause, and a 
substance to a substance, and an essence to an essence. But the question 
is, Are noumena phenomenal in the world of sense or phenomena? 
The answer is, that noumena are phenomenal in the world of sense or 
phenomena only when they produce or embody themselves in qualities 
and effects. This being the case, we can know the absolute, not abso- 
lutel}', but with absolute certainty, by means of relative knowing. But 
this raises the question, What is the Absolute ? 

d. To this it is answered, that there is no such thing in existence as 
" the Absolute " in the sense of one whole, and universal, and necessary 
existence ; but, on the contrary, there are many absolute things in the 
universe ; viz., there are absolute facts, and absolute relations, and ab- 
solute ideas, which we know absolutely. 

e. So, also, is there the absolute person, God ; he is an absolute 
God, and the great first and central fact of all facts. God's absolute- 
ness consists in his perfectnessof personal being ; perfectly infinite and 
infinitely perfect; perfect in perfections; absolutely infinite and infi- 
nitely absolute, with no defects ; a pCrfectness of perfections, and not 
of imperfections ; a full-orbed sphere of positive perfections, with no 
evils, no negations, in it. This God is absolute in almightiness, holi- 
ness, wisdom, and love ; the first and the last, the beginning and the 
end ; simply perfect and holy in all things, and imperfect and wrong 
iu nothing ; and this is the only absolute and ultimate in the uni- 
verse. 

f. There is not, and cannot be, an absolute that lies back of God, as 
the common source of God, nature, and man, as Hegel, Comte, and 
Spencer hold ; but God's own person as free, affectional, rational, and 
ethical,- is the one absolute God. He is not what is called " the abso- 
lute," nor the infinite, including God, man, and nature as one whole. The 
terms the absolute, the infinite, thus used, are pantheistic terms, and 
mean nothing. If there were anything in the universe corresponding 
to that supposed " one whole," which is called "the infinite," it would 



468 AUTOLOGY. 

not be infinite, but only finite. There is, however, nothing in the uni- 
verse corresponding to it. The absolute God is the only absolute, and 
he is a person, and as such is cognizable by the human faculties. 

g. Now, as to knowing the absolute, it may be said, that in knowing 
absolutely we necessarily know something which is absolute ; for abso- 
lute knowing is itself an absolute thing ; hence absolute knowing and 
knowing that which is absolute are in this case identical. The same is 
true in regard to all the primitive facts of consciousness, and in regard 
to all the original ideas of the reason ; for, in knowing them, we not 
only know absolutely, but we know things which are absolute ; for 
there arc many things that are absolute, though God is the only abso- 
lute person. 

h. Liberty is an absolute thing. Justice is an absolute thing. Ho- 
liness is an absolute thing. A circle is an absolute thing. A square is 
a*n absolute thing. A cube is an absolute thing. A sphere is an abso- 
lute thing. The absolute is simply the perfect in anything which is 
capable of perfection. Christ was a perfect man, and God is a perfect 
God, and both are absolute ; for all perfection is absolute. 

i. The difference between knowing the absolute and absolute knowing 
is, in most cases, precisely the same as the difference between relative 
knowing and absolute knowing. We have already seen that the ulti- 
mate ground of all reality and of the certainty of all knowledge is 
self-knowing, or self-consciousness, and that, in thus knowing our- 
selves, we know absolutely ; for the knower and the known are iden- 
tical. 

j. Man thus knows himself absolutely ; but to know ourselves is to 
know the evidence that proves the being of God ; therefore the con- 
sciousness that gives me the knowledge of myself gives me the evi- 
dence of the being of God. But this knowing of myself is absolute 
knowing ; therefore I know with an absolute knowing that which is the 
proof of the being of God. Furthermore, to know absolutely the abso- 
lute proof of the being of God is to know with absolute certainty that 
God is. 

k. I thus know the proof of God's being by an absolute knowing ; 
but I know the being of God by only a relative knowing. Yet, as the 
absolute knowing is absolutely certain, so is the relative knowing abso- 
lutely certain ; for it is built upon it, and derives its being and possibility 
from it. 

I. In other words, we know absolutely when we know ourselves ; 
and we know the absolute God with absolute >cer.tain.ty when we know 
ourselves as the free, affectional, rational and ethical, and personal effect 
in which God, as a free, affectional, rational and ethical, and personal au- 
thor, or cause, embodies himself; that is, we know God's being with abso- 



THE INTELLECT. 469 

lute certainty when wo know our own being absolutely, as the absolute 
evidence of his existence. 

m. But the direct answer to this question is this : man's being is the 
absolute evidence of the existence of God as his author and creator ; 
and the absolute evidence of the existence of a thing must be essentially 
connected with the being of that thing, so that this evidence could not 
exist without the existence of that thing which is its cause. The con- 
nection between the absolute evidence of the existence of a thing and 
that thing, is a necessary connection ; so that while the thing might 
exist without the evidence, yet the evidence, when once it does exjst, 
demands, necessarily, the existence of the thing of which it is the evi- 
dence, as it cannot exist without it. In the case of necessary cause, 
this connection would bind the cause to the effect as necessarily as it 
did the effect to the cause ; but in the case of a free and personal cause, 
it binds the effect, if it exists, to the cause by a necessary connection ; 
yet it does not make it necessary that the cause should produce the 
effect. The cause may exist and forbear to produce any effect ; but 
when the effect does exist, then it necessitates the existence of the 
cause. 

n. But man is the. absolute evidence that proves absolutely the being 
of God ; therefore man, in knowing himself absolutely, knows abso- 
lutely the absolute evidence that proves the being of God. But to 
know absolutely the absolute evidence that proves the being of a thing is 
to know with absolute certainty that that thing' exists ; hence, to know 
absolutely the absolute evidence that proves the being of God is to know 
God's being with absolute certainty. 

o. The ground of this absolute certainty of our knowing that God 
exists lies in the fact that we ourselves, being the absolute evidence of 
the existence of God, ( are thereby enabled to affirm the being of God 
with the same certainty with which we can affirm our own existence. 

p. The difference between absolute knowing and knowing the abso- 
lute, therefore, consists in this : in absolute knowing I know myself as 
a free, affectional, rational, ethical soul. This knowing is absolute, be- 
cause the knower and the known are identical. In knowing the absolute 
God, my reason cognizes myself, by means of the category of causes, as 
the free, affectional, rational, ethical, and personal effect of which the 
free, affectional, rational, ethical, and personal God alone can be the 
cause. This is the relative knowing, because the knower and the known 
are diverse, and because, by the act of knowing, I use the category, but 
do not make or discover the category, as in absolute knowing. 

q. Again, knowing the absolute God differs from absolute knowing 
also in this respect ; viz., in knowing God I cognize myself, my own 
free, affectional, rational, ethical, and personal self, by an act of my 



410 AUTOLOGY. 

reason, as the phenomenal image of the free, affection al, rational, ethical, 
and personal spirit, God ; i. e., the phenomenal person in which God, by 
a free creative act of his own, has given the image of his own person. 

r. As a photograph is the image of the person who sat for it, and as 
there is an identity of likeness which is necessary between the counte- 
nance of the being, man, and his photograph, so there is a necessary 
identity of likeness between God the creator and cause, and man the 
created and the effect ; and in this image alone lies the proof that man 
gives of the being of God. The proof of God's being and the phenom- 
enal effect caused by God are, therefore, in this instance, the same object. 
Man, therefore, in knowing himself, knows the absolute proof of the 
being of God, and hence knows with absolute certainty that God exists. 

s. Thus man knows his God with the utmost possible certainty 
with which he is capable of knowing anything ; for he knows God 
with the same certainty with which he knows himself, not onty, but by 
means of the same object and the same act; viz., by knowing himself. 
To know one's self is, therefore, the very greatest of all knowings ; for 
thereby does man not only know himself, but he knows God also, knows 
him certainly, and by the only evidence by which he can be known. 

t. The obvious fact here is, that the objects of absolute knowing and 
relative knowing come to be identical, for the reason that effect and 
cause find their phenomenal representation in the same identical object. 
As man is both in the image of man and in the image of God, as he is 
both the embodiment of himself as effect and the image of God as Effect- 
or, he is at once the phenomenal object to be cognized, and the original 
and necessary idea, or conception, with which that object is to be cog- 
nized ; so that, in thus knowing God, the mind knows both absolutely 
and relatively ; for it finds that, both in knowing the original ideas, or 
having knowledges of the knowable, and in cognizing the object by 
those ideas, the knower and the known are identical. Thus does man 
know God with double certainty, by both absolute and relative knowing. 

SECT. V. KANT'S ANALYTICAL AND SYNTHETICAL JUDGMENTS, OR 
KNOWINGS. 

a. Of the many fundamental errors of Kant it is necessary here to 
note only this one ; viz., the division of judgments, or knowings, into 
the two kinds of Analytical and Synthetical. It is a totally false and 
artificial division, and one that is mischievous in all its results. There 
can be no such division in nature ; for all judgments, or knowings, are, 
of necessity, analytical knowings. 

b. Analytical knowing takes place when the whole object known is 
within the grasp of the knowing faculties ; while synthetical knowing, 



THE INTELLECT. 471 

according to Kant, takes place when the objects known are not within 
the grasp of the knowing faculties. 

c. But it may here be pertinently asked, What kind of knowing is that 
whose objects are not within the grasp of the faculties that know ? Mani- 
festly, it is no knowing at all. Such a supposed knowing may be a 
theorizing, or a believing, but it cannot be a knowing at all. Kant him- 
self conges to this conclusion in the end, and thereby decides that it is 
not possible for the human mind to know that it is a soul, or that it has 
a God. 

d. This division of judgments, or knowings, into analytical and syn- 
thetical, is an error into which Kant's system necessarily drove him. The 
great original sin and primal error of Kant — an error which perverted 
his whole system — was this; viz., he denied the distinct and separate 
existence of the consciousness as a faculty- of the mind ; he confounded 
its functions with those of the sense, and then substituted the internal 
sense in its place. 

e. Thus he took away all possibility of knowing the existence of the 
soul or God from the human mind ; indeed, he took away all possibility 
of knowing or of beginning to know anything whatever from the mind ; 
yet he was well aware that the mind did claim to know both the soul and 
God. He was therefore compelled to find some method of accounting 
for this seeming to know, as he regarded it. Hence he was driven to 
invent the distinction between analytical and synthetical judgments. 

/. By the former he designed to cover all that we can actually know ; 
and by the latter, to cover all that we only seem to know, or think we 
know. But the distinction is false and pernicious, as is the error that 
made it necessary. 

g. Synthetical judgments, or knowings, were, in Kant's view, noth- 
ing but theorizings, and theorizings, too, which could never be verified 
by facts. He regarded the reason, therefore, as a mere regulative fac- 
ulty, and its ideas as mere regulative principles. He thus made our 
highest knowings a mere seeming and mockery, and our highest intel- 
lectual faculty a falsifier of the truth. This error necessarily followed 
the denial of the true nature and office of the consciousness as a separate 
and original faculty ; for without it the reason could have no facts with- 
out and before the senses, to work upon in the first instance, in the 
formation of ideas. Synthetical knowing is thus, clearly, no knowing 
at all ; and thus, even according to Kant, all knowing that is knowing 
at all is necessarily analytical knowing. 

h. This supposed synthetical knowing, or judging, of Kant, is analo- 
gous to believing. Believing is a synthetical act, though it is not au 
act of knowing, but only of believing. Believing rests on absolute 
knowing, while it believes in the objects of relative .knowing. Believing 



472 AUTOLOGY. 

differs from cognizing in this way ; viz., the reason cognizes those ex- 
ternal objects whose reality it believes in by means of the ideas on which 
that belief rests ; but it cannot so cognize those external objects until 
the sense has brought them before it. Believing is, therefore, a synthet- 
ical act, but not an act of knowing, properly so called ; for to believe is 
not to know ; i. e., the reason believes in the absent objects of .the exter- 
nal world by means of the facts and ideas which it knows absolutely in 
the subjective, world ; but in order to know them they must be present 
to the sense or the consciousness ; therefore no act of knowing is, or 
can be, a synthetical act ; for it is not possible to know that which is 
not in some way, either as a fact of the consciousness, or as an idea of 
the reason, or as a phenomenon of the sense, before the mind. 

i. As a result of denying the nature and office of the consciousness, 
Kant fell necessarily into another great error; viz., that of denying the 
phenomenality, or perceptibility, of the soul by any of the faculties of 
the mind. By so doing, he denied the soul's reality, and that we can 
know anything at all. 

j. The error of denying the existence and office of the consciousness 
as a distinct faculty by which the being of the soul is affirmed, reduces 
all knowledge to the merest idealism, and all being, on the other hand, 
to the merest nihilism. 

• k. The error of denying that the soul of man has phenomenality to 
itself, i. e., has the capability of being perceived (i. e., of self-seeing 
and of being seen by other souls), is the same as denying that the soul 
has impenetrability ; but to deny that the soul has impenetrability is to 
deny that it has reality, and this, is, of course, to deny its existence 
altogether. Ilere we reach the bottom of the original sin of the phi- 
losophy of Locke, the scepticism of Hume, and the '•' critique " of Kant : 
they did not see the absolute knowing of the self-seeing consciousness 
and the self-comprehending reason, and hence called all our knowing 
mere relative knowing. 

I. This is the fundamental error also of Sir William Hamilton, and 
of all the Scotch school, which makes all their struggles to escape from 
atheism, and to prove the being of the soul and God, fruitless. Upon this 
same error of denying that the soul is self-seeing, and that two souls, as 
such, are mutually objective and phenomenal, and that thus both noumena 
and phenomena, substance and qualities, are known, is built the materialism 
of Compte, of Herbert Spencer, and of John Stuart Mill. The}' adopt 
avowedly the theory of Kant, Sir William Hamilton, and the Scotch 
school, and built their atheism legitimately upon it. 

m. On the other hand, the absolutists Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel 
reach the same result ; viz., that of denying the phenomenality, impene- 
trability, and individuality of the soul to itself, and to other souls, by start- 



THE INTELLECT. 473 

ing from an opposite point, and making the soul and its processes every- 
thing. 

n. Locke, Ilume, Kant, and Sir W. Hamilton arrive at the nihilism 
of the soul and God by denying that the soul has impenetrability or 
phenomenality to itself, or to other souls, while Fichte, Schelling, and 
Hegel destroy the individuality, impenetrability, phenomenality, and 
consequent perceptibility and reality of the soul to itself or other souls 
by making it and its processes identical with, and the life force and 
whole reality of, the whole universe. In both cases the soul of man is 
extinguished, and with it all reality disappears, and one universal ideal- 
ism, or more properly nihilism, necessarily ensues. 

o. With regard to the kinds of knowing, the only true division is the 
one which we have given ; viz., that of absolute and relative knowing, 
the former taking place when the knower and the known are identical, 
the latter when they are diverse ; the former having subjective facts and 
ideas for its field of knowing, and the latter having all objects in the 
external world. 

p. Both absolute knowing and relative knowing are analytical. There 
is no such thing as synthetical knowing. That subjective facts and ideas 
may be known analytically is certain ; for it is obvious that they are 
entirely within the grasp of the knowing faculty, the knower and the 
known being identical ; and this is also absolute knowing. 

q. But in relative knowing the knower and the known are diverse, so 
that the knowing is, of course, not absolute knowing, but it is analytical 
knowing nevertheless ; for the object known, though not identical with 
the knower, is still within the grasp of the knowing faculties, and is. 
therefore analytically known, as all objects must, of necessity, be, that 
are known at all. It is thus manifest that both absolute and relative 
knowing are analytical knowing, and, consequently, that all knowing is, 
in its nature, necessarily analytical knowing, and, consequently, that 
Kant's division of knowings, or judgments, as he calls them, into analyt- 
ical and synthetical, is altogether false and artificial. 
60 • 



4U AUTOLOGY. 



DIVISION III. 
RELATIVE KNOWING. 

CHAPTER II. 
SOUL LANGUAGE AND SOUL IMPLEMENTS, 

OB THE 

DICTIONARY 



CATEGORIES AND INSTRUMENTS USED BY THE REASON 
IN RELATIVE KNOWING. 

a. The reason being 1 about to enter upon its journey of exploration 
and survey over the external world, it will be of advantage to gather 
up and furnish in one collection all the requisites for its journey and for 
its work. It will need the Categories as a guide-book, chart, and 
dictionary, and it will need the body, the senses, and the executive 
organs, as a case of instruments to facilitate its operations. 

b. With the latter — viz., the case of instruments — the reason will 
collide with, sensate, handle, and examine all external objects ; and with 
them it will also make its journeys over nature. With them it will be 
supplied as with an alpinstock, and shod as with ice-spurs, and fur- 
nished as with telescope, microscope, barometer, compass, quadrant, 
and chain, to measure and investigate the whole external world : while 
with the former, as with a dictionary of science, a guide-book of travel, 
a topographical and geological chart, a glossary of old words and in- 
scriptions, it will cognize, translate, and explain all things with which it 
comes in contact. 

For the sake of a clearer and more satisfactory intelligence, and of a 
better facility of both knowing and wielding the categories and instru- 
ments in relative knowing, we subjoin the following schedule : — 



TI1E INTELLECT. 



475 



SOUL LANGUAGE. 






L Categories formed from Elemen- 
tal Facts and Ideas. 

1. Essential Activity. 

2. Essential Intelligence. 

3. Essential Self, or Individuality. 

4. Essential Self-law. 

5. Essential Liberty. 

6. Essential Free Will. 

B. Categories formed from Univer- 

sal Facts and of Being. 

7. Being. 

8. Diversity. 

9. Identity. 

10. Resemblance. 

C. Categories formed from Causal 

Facts and, Ideas. 

11. Cause. 

12. Effect. 

13. The Vital and Dynamical connec- 

tion between Cause and Effect. 

14. The Vital and Dynamical Iden- 

tity of Cause and Effect. 

15. Motion. 

16. Number. 

17. Time. 

D. Categories formed from the Fact 

and Idea of Substance. ' 

18. Substance. 



19. Quality. 

20. Affections. 

21. Intellect. 

22. Conscience. 

23. The Vital and Dynamical Rela- 

tion between Substance and 
Qualities. 

24. The Vital and Dynamical Iden- 

tity of Substance and Qual- 
ities. 

E. Categories formed from Facts and 

Ideas of Vitality. 

25. Action and Reaction. 

26. Perpetual Identity of the Self. 

27. Perpetual Reknowing of the 

Consciousness. 

F. Categories formed from the Facts 

and Ideas of Personality. 

28. Free Cause. 

29. Final Cause. 

30. Complete Personality. 

G. Categories formed from Facts 

and Ideas of Objectivity. 

31. Object. 

32. Whole and Part. 

33. Measure. 

34. Space. 

35. Impenetrability. 



476 



AUTOLOGY. 



H. Categories formed from the Facts 
and Ideas of the Different Kinds 
of Being*. 

36. Spirit. 

37. Life. 

38. Force. 

39. Matter. 

I. Categories formed from Facts and 
Ideas of Mode. 

40. Mode. 

41. The Actual. 

42. The Possible. 

43. The Necessary, 



J. Categories formed from JEstheti- 
cal Facts and Ideas. 

44. The True. 

45. The Sublime. 

46. The Beautiful. 

47. The Deformed and Ludicrous. 

K. Categories formed from Ethical 
Facts and Ideas. 

48. The Eight. 

49. A Eule of Duty. 

50. Moral Obligation. 

L. Categories formed from Theistic 
Facts and Ideas. 

51. A Personal Creator and God. 



II. 



SOUL INSTRUMENTS. 

THE SUCCESSIVE SYSTEMS OF. EMBODIMENT, THE FACULTIES OF 
THE SENSE, AND THE EXECUTIVE ORGANS OF THE BODY. 



A. Systems of Embodiment. 

1. The Nervous System. 

2. The Nutritive System. 

3. The Pulsatory System. 

4. The Respiratory System. 

5. The Reproductive System. 

6. The Osseous System. 

7. The Muscular System. 

8. The Cutaneous System. 

B. The Faculties of the Sense. 
1. Physical Resistance. 



2. The Sense of Touch. 

3. The Sense of Taste. 

4. The Sense of Smell. 

5. The Sense of Hearing. 

6. The Sense of Sight. 

C. The Executive Organs of the 
Body. 

1. The Locomotive Organs. 

2. The Manipulatory Organs. 

3. The Vocal Organs. 



THE INTELLECT. 



477 



III. 



OPERATIONS OF KNOWING. 

a. The operations of knowing are divided into two classes ; viz., Ab- 
solute and Relative knowing. 

Absolute knowing has two operations ; viz. : — 

1. Essential Self-seeing by the Consciousness. 

2. Essential Self-comprehending by the Reason. 

By these two operations of absolute knowing, the mind is furnished 
with all the facts, ideas, categories, and instruments of the foregoing 
table. 

,b. The Reason, armed by means of absolute knowing with the fore- 
going language and instruments, goes out over nature, and investigates 
it by means of the following, — 

Operations of Relative Knowing. 



1. 


It Believes. 


7. 


It Ratiocinates 


2. 


It Perceives. 


8. 


It Rhetorizes. 


3. 


It Cognizes. 


9. 


It Theorizes. 


4, 


It Conceives. 


10. 


It Invents. 


5. 


It Remembers. 


11. 


It Imagines. 


6. 


It Abstracts, Generalizes, and 


12. 


It Theologizes. 




Classifies. 


13. 


It Legislates. 



478 AUTOLOGY. 



DIVISION III. 

RELATIVE KNOWING. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE OPERATIONS OP THE REASON IN RELATIVE KNOWING. 

ART. I. THE REASON ACQUIRES EXTERNAL FACTS. 
SECT. I. THE EEASON BELIEVES. 

a. The first operation of the reason in relative knowing is believing ; 
i. e., the reason believes in the reality and truth of the original ideas and 
categories which it has formed, and that they are a true and reliable 
programme of the external world. 

b. This faith must exist, or no operation of relative knowing would 
take place ; for relative knowing is the application of the ideas and cat- 
egories of the reason to the facts of the sense, and the explaining and 
translating of the latter by the former. We must, therefore, believe in 
the truth and reliableness of the categories before we can act upon them ; 
and this leads us to the question, — 

A. What is Faith, and what is the difference between believing and 
knowing ? 

a. Faith as a feeling of confidence and as an affection has already been 
treated under the head of Trustfulness and the corresponding social 
affections in Part II. We here treat it as an operation of the reason. 
Faith, as an operation of the reason, recognizes and reposes upon the ideas 
which are absolutely known, and programmes and believes in the facts 
which are yet to be relatively known. This is the position, nature, and 
work of the reason in the operations of faith. It stands on the solid 
earth, and reaches to the skies. The rocks of absolute knowledge are its 
earth foundation, the distant stars in the heaven of relative knowing are 
the objects of its apprehension. We place faith at this point between ab- 
solute and relative knowing, because it recognizes and reposes upon the 
one, and believes in and presages the other ; and we call this act the first 
operation of the reason in relative knowing, because it does prefigure and 



THE INTELLECT. 4T9 

forecast the unknown facts of the external world according to the scheme of 
the ideas of the reason, and so believes in their reality as actually tcf set 
about cognizing 1 them : when they are cognized faith is lost in knowl- 
edge. Faith differs from imagining in this; viz., faith simply programmes 
according to facts, while imagination perfects according to ideals; 

b. All knowing is either absolute knowing or relative knowing. 
Absolute knowing is that which takes place when the knower and the 
known are identical; relative knowing is that which takes place when 
the knower and the known are diverse. Moreover, absolute knowing is 
immediate, intuitive, and experimental, while relative knowing is reflec- 
tive, interpretative, and analytical. 

c. Furthermore, in all cases of knowing, whether absolute or relative, 
the object known must be present to the knower. In absolute knowing 
the knower and the known are identical, and, of course, the thiug known 
is present ; in relative knowing, while the knower and the known are 
diverse, yet the known must be presented by the senses, or it cannot be 
known. But believing, on the contrary, requires the absence of the 
thing believed in from both the reason and the sense. 

d. This, then, is the first broad distinction between knowing and be- 
lieving. While believing is not, strictly speaking, knowing at all, yet 
it, at least, requires an act of absolute knowing in order to its existence. 
All believing is based on something known, on the one hand, and it re- 
quires, with equal imperativeness, a something unknown, on the other. 
The facts and the ideas of absolute knowing are indispensable to faith, 
or believing ; these are its original and natural basis. 

e. When the consciousness has given the original facts of our being, 
and when the reason jias formed from them its original and necessary 
ideas and categories, then, without anything more, is the mind prepared 
to believe, to have faith ; for it has all the elements of universal being 
in its own consciousness and possession. 

/. But when the organs of sense are added to the mind, and when it 
is thus prepared for relative knowing, knowing the external world, and 
.when it actually perceives and cognizes external objects, and forms con- 
ceptions of them, then, with these conceptions in the mind, it is prepared 
to believe in the existence of external objects which are not present to 
the senses. This again brings us front to front to the question, 

B. What is the difference between relative knowing and believing ? 

a. We answer that believing, or faith, is the expectation that the 
facts of 'the sense will correspond to the ideas and categories of the 
reason. That faith becomes practical, and shows itself by works, when we 
actually set about interpreting the findings of the sense by the ideas and 
categories of the reason, and acting accordingly in the pursuits of life. 



480 AUTOLOGY. 

b. The difference between believing and absolute knowing is obvious, 
as is that between relative knowing and absolute knowing ; for they 
both alike require and demand absolute knowing in order to their exist- 
ence. But the relation of believing to relative knowing needs further 
consideration. 

c. Relative knowing and believing are both operations of the reason, 
and hold the same relation to absolute knowing as their ground', means, 
and guaranty. We have already seen that, in order to have relative 
knowledge, we must first have knowledges of the knowable as ideas, or 
conceptions, already possessed by the reason, and that we must also 
have organs of sense to bring the mind into contact with external 
objects. These things existing, we are able to cognize the external 
object by means of the ideas in the mind. This it is to know with relative 
knowing. 

d. But in order to believe, we have no need of the presence of the 
objects which the organs of sense bring before us. The antecedent 
knowledges of the knowable of objects, whether as ideas formed from 
the facts of consciousness or as conceptions formed from facts of the 
sense, are sufficient to enable us to believe in the existence of the objects 
of sense without their presence. Indeed, the absence of the phenomenal 
or sensuous object is essential to the existence of faith ; for, if the object 
were present; it would not be faith, but knowledge. 

e. Kant has divided all knowing into analytical and synthetical know- 
ing ; in the former of which the object known is present to the knower, 
while in. the latter it is absent from the knower. But this is obviously 
a mistake, as all knowing requires the presence of the thing known. 
It is believing, and not knowing, which requires the absence of the 
thing believed, and which is, consequently, a synthetical act ; for it 
reaches out after that which is believed in, but absent. 

/. But, in order to make the nature of believing distinctly appear, 
we must recall the distinction between absolute knowing and relative 
knowing, and mark how believing is distinguished from each. In the 
first instance, the absolute knowing of the consciousness and the rea- 
son must first exist, giving us facts and ideas, before believing can be 
at all. • In the second place, phenomenal facts must be absent from the 
sense, or there can be no believing, — for, if believing were attempted 
without the presence of the absolute facts of the consciousness and of 
the ideas of the reason, it would not be believing, but illusion and fanat- 
icism ; and if, on the other hand, believing were attempted with the 
facts of the sense present, it would not be believing, but knowing; i. e., 
relative knowing. 

g. Believing', therefore, requires and uses the same original facts and 
ideas which cognizing or relative knowing uses ; but on the other hand, 



TIIE INTELLECT. 481 

it does not require nor use the presence of the objective, the physical 
and sensuous facts which relative knowing or cognition requires. Thus 
believing requires the presence of the facts and the ideas of absolute 
knowing, and it requires the absence of the relative knowing of the 
facts believed in, in order to the existence of such belief. 

h. It is true that, after relative knowing has taken place and concep- 
tions of the objects of the external world have been formed and retained 
in the mind, then these conceptions themselves may become the grounds 
of belief in the existence of external objects ; but those objects must 
not be present to the senses, but must be absent in order to the exer- 
cise of faith in their existence ; for what we see actually present to our 
senses we know, and do not simply believe in. 

i. But here it should be carefully observed, that this retaining in 
the consciousness of the conceptions of those external things which are 
cognized by relative knowing, is an act of absolute knowing, as will be 
shown in the next section ; so that it is still true in every case that be- 
lieving requires the presence of absolute knowing and the absence of 
relative knowing, in order to its existence. 

j. We come, therefore, to this conclusion in reference to believing 
and relative knowing : First, they agree in this ; viz., that they are both 
relative. Believing, as well as cognizing, or relative knowing, requires, 
and is based upon, and, in every instance, refers to, absolute knowing, 
or some kind of knowing going before, just as relative knowing, or cog- 
nizing, refers to, and depends upon, absolute knowing, or some other 
knowing going before. 

k. It is therefore obvious that, precisely because we know something 
already, we are able to know something more ; so also are we able to 
believe in something because we already know something. We believe 
because we know, just as we cognize because we know something 
already with which to cognize. All believing, therefore, like all cog- 
nizing, is relative. In this respect believing and relative knowing, or 
cognizing, agree. 

I. Secondly, with regard to believing and relative knowing, we come 
to the conclusion that they differ in this : (1.) That all relative knowing 
is an analytical act of the mind ; (2.) All believing is a synthetical act 
of the mind; i. e., relative knowing analyzes that which is already in 
the mind both in the reason and in the sense, and interprets the latter 
by the former, in order to know ; while, on the other hand, believing 
conjoins, adds to, and synthesizes something external and absent with 
what is already in the mind, in order to believe. 

m. There is a generic and everlasting distinction between knowing 
and believing ; absolute knowing is simple, direct, immediate, and intui- 
tive ; relative knowing is analytical and interpretative ; while believing 
61 



482 AUTOLOGY. 

is always and necessarily synthetical, demanding the presence of abso- 
lute knowing and the absence of relative knowing ; for it is that which 
relative knowing would know, if it could be exercised, which believing 
synthesizes with (i. e., joins or connects with) the absolute knowing 
already in the mind. 

n. Kant's division of all knowing into analytical and synthetical, — 
the former taking place when the whole object is before the mind, 
and the latter when it is not, — may be thus illustrated, viz., "a 
horse is a quadruped." Here the object " horse " may be examined 
and the knowledge verified. But in synthetical cognition, according to 
Kant, the thing cognized is not immediately' before the mind, as when 
we cognize a cause in its effect. The effect alone is before us. We see 
the overflowing Nile, and say there has been rain on the mountains. The 
only thing before us is the flooded river ; we see nothing of the rain. 

o. Now, this inference, or conclusion, by which we say there has 
been rain upon the mountains, is a synthetical knowing; i.e., it joins 
to the thing actually known, which is present, a something absent as its 
cause ; i. e., it knows the cause in the effect. 

p. But this we have shown to be an error ; for an effect is always 
the phenomenal form of its cause, which is, therefore, always present, 
and thereby makes the knowing to be analytical, and not synthetical. 
The distinction, then, between analytical and synthetical knowing is 
a false distinction. Synthetical knowing, as Kant calls it, is-, prop- 
erly, not knowing at all, but believing. 

q. Kant failed altogether to note the difference between absolute 
knowing and relative knowing, and treated all knowing as if it were 
relative knowing, and then undertook to divide relative knowing into 
analytical and synthetical knowing ;" by which means he, as he supposed, 
drove the knowledge of God out of the pale of valid knowing ; for he 
rightly held that synthetical knowing is no knowing at all ; it cer- 
tainly is not knowing, but is believing. Yet believing is not the dreamy 
thing which might be supposed ; for believing requires the presence of 
all the facts, ideas, and conceptions of absolute knowing, and the ab- 
sence of all relative knowing. 

r. Yet let it be observed that believing has all the certainty of all the 
absolute knowings of the consciousness and the reason as its basis and 
its surety. The same original facts of consciousness, and the same 
universal and necessary ideas of the reason, that are the ground and 
means of all relative knowing of the objects of sense, together with 
the conceptions which the reason forms from external things, and which, 
by an absolute knowing, are held in the consciousness to be employed 
again in cognizing external objects, — these same facts, ideas, and con- 
ceptions, thus absolutely known and constituting the mind's sole means 



THE INTELLECT. 483 

of translating and cognizing, or knowing relatively, the objects of sense, 
are also the basis, foundation, means, and guaranty of believing. Thus 
it appears that believing and relative knowing, faith and the knowledge 
of external objects, rest on precisely the same basis, and have the same 
warrant and guaranty of reliableness and truth. 

SECT. II. THE REASON PERCEIVES. 

A. What is Perception ? 

The second operation of the reason in relative knowing is that by 
which it collides and sensates, and thus comes into contact with external 
objects, and becomes aware of their prseence. This operation is per- 
formed by the reason through the medium of the sense, which it employs 
as its instrument. 

a. The discussion of this operation of the reason will therefore in- 
volve not only the question, What is perception ? but also the question, 
What is the office of the sense as employed by the reason in perceiving, 
in distinction from the act of the reason itself in perceiving ? 

b. Relative knowing is cognizing the external objects which are pre- 
sented by the sense, through the means of the categories of the reason. 
The sense, consequently, is emploj^ed first in relative knowing, and by 
means of it the reason perceives. 

c. The true nature and office of the sense will appear when we recall 
the four forms of consciousness in the human mind; viz.,' The first 
form of consciousness is that of essential intelligence as a formative 
principle in the substance, or essence, of the mind. The second form 
of consciousness is that of a knowing faculty, or a faculty of the intel- 
lect proper. The third form of the consciousness is that of a spirito- 
sensuous consciousness, in which it takes on body and is formative like 
the first. The fourth is the Sense, in which it is instrumental, and col- 
lides with and sensates external objects. Thus we have consciousness 
as a formative principle, as a knowing faculty, and as a spirito-sensuous 
consciousness, and as a sense instrument. 

d. In each of these capacities the consciousness is distinct as to 
field and function. The field of the first, viz., the essential intelligence, 
is among the primary elements of the mind, and its office is formative. 
The field of the second is' amongst the knowing faculties, or in the intel- 
lect proper, and its office is cognitive. In the third the office of con- 
sciousness is formative in taking on body, and in the fourth instrumental 
in colliding with and sensating objects in the external world. 

e. The first three of these, it will be seen, are entirely subjective 
fields, while the last is exclusively an objective field of action. It 
must be observed also that the first mode of consciousness (the essential 



484 AUTOLOGY. 

intelligence) combines with other elements to form the will, which is the' 
centre and substance of the mind ; and that the third, being also forma- 
tive, diffuses itself through all the systems of the bodily organization : 
but that the second form of the consciousness (as a faculty of the intel- 
lect proper) inheres, as do all the other faculties of the mind, in the 
will as its substance and centre ; while, on the contrary, in the fourth 
form, the consciousness, as the sense, is the appendage of the reason, 
inheres in it, grows out of it, and is its instrument ; and reports to it 
directly and in the first instance whatsoever it collides with and sensates 
in the external world. 

f. The relation of the reason to* the consciousness within and the 
sense without must here be particularly noted. It must be observed 
that the sense inheres in the reason, and reports to it what it finds in 
the external world, and that the reason then reports its cognitions to 
the central consciousness within. 

g. The intellect proper has two faculties ; viz., the consciousness, as 
a knowing faculty, and the reason with the appendage of the sense, 
by which it reaches out, as with fingers and feelers, microscope and 
telescope, into the external world. It must be observed, also, that in 
the human mind the sense inheres in the reason, and the reason inheres 
in the will, which is the essence of the mind ; while in brutes the seuse 
inheres direct^ in the self, which is the essence of brute being ; for the 
brute has no reason. 

h. Indeed, the brute has no intellect proper at all, for it has no con- 
sciousness as a knowing faculty, but only an essential intelligence as a 
formative principle, which never rises higher than a self. Consequently 
the external consciousness, or sense, in the brute, inheres in, and reports 
directly to, this self ; while in human beings the sense inheres in the 
reason, which is the highest intellectual faculty, and brings it into con- 
tact and correspondence with the external world, and then reports to 
it in the first instance, and through it back to the original and central 
consciousness of the soul. 

i. What the office of the sense is will, therefore, readily appear, when 
we observe what it actually does in connection with the act of perceiv- 
ing. We shall by experiment ascertain that the office of the sense is, 
not to perceive, not to cognize, any object, but to furnish to the reason 
the facilities for coming into contact with external objects, in order that 
it may perceive and cognize them. 

j. The Sense is both physical resistance and the five senses ; the 
former is made up .of the whole impenetrable self, the latter are simply 
the antennae of the reason. They are the rod, the probe, in the hand 4 of 
the reason, with which it surveys, measures, and investigates. The 
sense is the link between the reason and the external world, and brings 



THE INTELLECT. 485 

them tog-ether thereby, physical resistance giving the substance of 
things by simple contact, and the five' senses giving the qualities of 
things by sensation, thus making perception and cognition both possible 
and actual. 

k. Every act of cognition of an external object consists in the 
application, by the reason, of one of its own ideas to the object presented 
by the sense faculty. In order to this, two things are obviously neces- 
sary ; the one is, that the reason must have certain ideas, on the one- 
hand, and the other is, that there must be some method of bringing 
external objects into contact with it, on the other hand. 

I. Then the reason, by applying its ideas to the objects thus pre- 
sented, cognizes or knows them, or, in other words, translates them into 
the language of ideas, and hands them over to the consciousness as 
things known. Now, the faculty by which an object is thus brought 
before the reason for cognition, is the sense ; and the act of the reason 
by which it becomes aware of the presence of the external object thus 
brought before it for cognition, we call perception. 

m. Perception, then, is simply the being aware of the presence of an 
unknown object. It is not knowing what the object is, but simply that 
it is present, in order that the mind may know what it is ; and this 
knowing what the object thus before the mind is, we call cognition. 

n. But the office of the sense is not cognizing, nor yet perceiving, but 
simply to serve 'as the means of effecting contact and sensating : the 
contact is by physical resistance, and the sensating is by the five senses. 
And when this contact is effected, and when this sensating is performed, 
then, first, perception takes place, by which the reason is made aware 
of the presence of an object; and then, secondly, cognition of the object 
thus perceived is made ; after which, the object being in possession 'of 
the mind, it goes forward with all its succeeding operations, as con- 
ceiving, remembering, theorizing, &c, &c, to all of which we now 
proceed. 

o. Thus have we discriminated between consciousness, and reason, 
and the sense, and shown what part each acts in the operation of know- 
ing ; and we have shown that consciousness both grasps its own object 
and cognizes it ; and that the reason has no power of grasping or bring- 
ing an object before itself, but simply of comprehending and forming 
ideas from the facts of consciousness. We have shown, then, that the 
reason, with these ideas, cognizes the objects which physical resistance 
and the senses bring before it, and passes them over into the conscious- 
ness, while physical resistance and the senses have no office at all, save 
that of bringing external objects before the mind. 

p. We have also shown that the consciousness cognizes facts within it- 
self immediately and absolutely, but receives intelligence through the rea- 



486 AUTOLOGY. 

son mediately, and knows it relatively ; and that the reason cognizes ideas 
from the facts of consciousness immediately and absolutely, while it 
cognizes external objects through physical resistance and the senses 
mediately and relatively. Thus armed with the absolute knowledge of 
facts by the consciousness, and the absolute knowledge of ideas by the 
reason, and with the apparatus of physical resistance and the senses, the 
mind is fully prepared to go out and cognize all objects in the universe, 
with which it can thus be brought into contact. 

. B. The Ground and Conditions of Perception. 
a* The first ground and condition of perception is the mutual impene- 
trability of perceiver and perceived. Two bodies must meet and mutu- 
ally resist one another before there can be any perception of the one by 
the other ; each must, of course, be objective to the other, and this is the 
first act of perception ; viz., the mutual objectivity of perceiver and 
perceived. This is the sine qua non of all possible perception. 

b. The second ground of all perception is that of a susceptibility, on 
the part of the perceiver, to the qualities of the perceived. Without 
this nothing can be definitely known. On the first ground of all per- 
ception just named, the substance and reality of an object may be 
known ; on the second, the qualities of an object may be known. 

c. Thus we shall find that the constituents of all objects — substance 
and qualities — stand over against the corresponding faculties of the 
sense, viz., physical resistance and the five senses : by the former we find 
out substance, by the latter, qualities ; and thus the first operation of the 
reason in knowing by means of ideas and the senses, in the external 
world, is perceiving. 

d. It is not the sense that perceives, but the reason perceives through 
the senses ; and this is not an operation of cognition, but only of perceiv- 
ing. Perceiving is not so much knowing as being made aware that there 
is something to be known ; just as physical resistance and sensation are 
not perception, but the bringing of the mind into contact with something 
to be perceived. 

e. In perception, the reason is simply introduced into the presence of 
external objects, by means of physical resistance and the senses, for the 
purpose of knowing them. No ideas are employed, it is merely an experi- 
ence of force ; no knowledge is gained, save that something is present to 
be known ; as, for instance, I hear a rap at the door ; that merely 
informs me that somebody or something is there ; and this I know simply 
by experience, as I see and hear; it is only sensation, which I know to 
mean that some person or thing is at the door. I open the door, and 
find it a person or thing, as may be. A better illustration is that, in 
passing the street at night, I hit something with my elbow, I do not 



THE INTELLECT. 487 

know what : but I know that it is something. I stop and examine, 
and find it a box, a lamp-post, a person, a horse, or some other thing. 

f. Now, the elbow and its feeling are the sense ; for they make 
contact and sensation possible. The touching of 'the thing with my 
elbow, by which I am made aware that something is there, is perception. 
The examining of it, and the ascertaining of what it really is, is cognition, 
as discriminated from perception. The reason, with the senses, pros- 
pects,, reconnoitres, explores, purveys, and thus gathers and brings up 
all objects, and sets them before its own intelligence for cognition. 

g. This is perception. It is the reason that perceives through the 
sense, — i. e., through physical resistance and the five senses, — just as 
it is the astronomer that sees through the telescope. As it is not the 
telescope that sees, but the astronomer, so it is not the sense which per- 
ceives, but the reason behind it, which uses it. When, therefore, it is 
said that the sense perceives, it is meant that the reason perceives 
through it. 

h. The senses' have sensation, and are thereby capable of being instru- 
ments ; but sensation is not perception. The sensitiveness of the senses, 
like the transparency of the lens, or the susceptibility of the lodestone, 
or the mercury in the thermometer, is that which adapts them to be in- 
struments of the mind ; but it does not make them the mind. The reason 
perceives through the sense, and in perceiving is simply made aware of 
the presence of some object, but is not at all informed by the act of 
perception as to what the object is. This is left for another operation 
of the mind, viz., cognition. Perception bows itself out when, by the 
senses, it has introduced an object to the reason for cognition. 

i. The reason, in the act of perception, comes out to the utmost 
•verge of the senses, looks, hears, touches, tastes, smells through them, 
and by means of the whole bodily and spiritual personality collides with 
external objects, and thus finds their impenetrability ; and by these 
means it perceives the object, and comes into contact with it for 
cognition. 

j. To the question, then, "What is perception?" the reply is, that 
perception is that act of the reason through the sense (either as physi- 
cal resistance, or as the five senses, or as both) by which the reason ia 
brought into contact with an external object, and an external object is. 
brought before the reason for cognition. Perception is not cognition, 
nor is it mere sensation ; but it is the making of the mind aware of the- 
presence of external objects. 

k. It does not discriminate as to what the external object is, nor give- 
knowledge as to what it is ; that is done by the reason through its ideas, 
in the act of cogniLion ; but perception is not cognition ; it is only the 
perceiving that there is something to be cognized. It is not sensation ; 



488 AUTOLOGY. 

for mere physical resistance has no sensation, and yet it leads to percep- 
tion ; that is, it makes the reason awa:-e that there is something- to be 
cognized, and that is the whole work of perception. It engrasps an 
object by means of physical resistance, or the senses, or both, and brings 
it before the reason for cognition ; and then the reason does cognize it 
by applying its ideas to it, and translating it into ideas. 

1. Perceiving, then, as an act of the reason, is simply engrasping by 
means of the sense. It implies contact and engrasping. It thus'takes 
up the object, receives it into its grasp, or its reception-room, and pre- 
sents it to the reason for cognition. Perception through the sense, then, 
is employed by the reason as the presentation act; for perceiving is 
presenting an external object at the court of the reason for cognition. 
Perception through the sense is thus used as the door-keeper, the usher 
to the reason ; and by it are brought in we know not who ; but the 
moment the reason meets them with its knowledges of the knowable and 
its manifold ideas, already acquired and in possession, it knows them, 
and calls them by their names. 

m. But, in order more fully to understand what perception is, and 
how it is discriminated from cognition, it will be necessary to consider that 
perception proper is the contact with, and the making us aware of, and 
the presenting to us of, that which is external to the perceiver, and 
that whether the perceiver be a pure spirit or a mind in a human body. 
The essence of matter or of mind is alike impenetrable, whether it be 
in pure spirit, or in a human body, or in an animal, or in any object in 
nature, or in a world ; in all cases the essence is impenetrable. 

n. Perception, therefore, in either case, is the contact, presentation, 
and apprehension of something external to the perceiver. Perception is 
also by means of the senses ; and these sensations will be as various as ' 
the senses and the objects with which the perceiver comes by them into 
contact ; but they are never cognitions. 

2. a. But here it may be asked, " Plow do we know that the object 
perceived, or supposed to be perceived, is not an illusion of the subjec- 
tive action of the- mind, imposing its subjective activity upon itself for 
the object?" To this it is replied, that the office of tl\e sense or per- 
ceptive faculty (as it is miscalled), is to bring the reason into contact with 
the objects of cognition in any or all of their varieties ; and in doing this 
it employs the sense, in all its adaptation to the different forms of phe- 
nomena. 

b. Now, that the contact of the reason with external objects, thus 
brought about, is real and a veritable cognition of objectivity, is proved 
just as directly, as inevitably, and as positively, and by the same means as 
that by which we prove the existence of the external world at all ; and how 
do we prove the existence of an external world ? The reply is, by the same 



THE INTELLECT. 489 

means by which we prove' our own existence, self-consciousness giving 
the " me " and the " not me." 

c. In order that anything may be perceived, it is of course 
necessary that there bo both a perceiver and an object of perception : 
perceiving, therefore, is based on the following primary facts, which are 
given by the consciousness ; viz., individuality and objectivity ; the con- 
sciousness giving us first the knowledge of the self, and then also the 
knowledge of the not self, or the being of that from which the self is 
separated and individualized. 

d. Perception is simply the corning in contact of the self as an 
object occupying space and moving in time, with the not self as an ob- 
ject also occupying space and moving in time. It is bringing my 
individuality as an object in space and time into contact with some other 
object in space and time. Hence perception depends upon the mutual 
objectivity and impenetrability of the perceiver and the perceived, and 
is, therefore, necessarily an objective and not a subjective experience. 
It is because no two objects can occupy the same space at the same 
time, and because I am conscious that I am a self, an individuality, dis- 
tinct from the objectivity that is not included in my self-consciousness, 
that perception is possible. 

e. Perception, therefore, does not depend upon the senses at all ; it 
would be the same if men were disembodied. Two individual spirits 
would be. mutually objective and mutually impenetrable ; the self-con- 
sciousness of the one would, of necessity, include itself and exclude the 
self-consciousness of the other; "they must therefore have the faculties of 
objective perception. And precisely so are two self-consciousnesses in 
the human body mutually objective and impenetrable, and therefore the 
perception of each other must also be respectively objective, and cannot 
'be subjective. The fact that these self-consciousnesses are each em- 
bodied and provided with organs of sense does not alter the essential 
nature of perception at all, as it depends primarily on a faculty lying 
deeper than the senses, or any faculty of perception, even in its giving 
us first individuality, and then objectivity. 

f. The possibility, then, of perception is here seen to be linked with 
our original self-consciousness, and with the very fact and essence of pur 
being, as we have already seen when we examined the faculties of the 
sense, especially that of physical resistance ; for if we are not first con- 
scious of subjectivity, we cannot be conscious of objectivity, and. if we 
have not both of these already in the consciousness, the sense perception 
has nothing by which it can be discriminated or known, or to which it 
can report itself, but is only a part of the original consciousness of sub- 
jectivity. Perception, therefore, is the perceiving of objects as opposed 
to the self that perceives. 

62 



490 AUTOLOGY. 

g. The office of the sense in the operation of perception is merely 
that of physical contact with the matter of the objects to be known, 
and then by perception are they presented for cognition to the reason. 
The sense merely lets in physical and external phenomena to the reason, 
to be cognized by it. Perception, then, is by means of contact with 
objectivity, bringing it, in all its varieties, before the reason, which, by 
means of its ideas, cognizes it. 

h. The contact, however, in each case, is as different as the whole 
variety of the objects, all and several, with which the perceptive faculty 
may come in contact. Sensation holds the same relation to perception 
that the various colors do to light. Pure and complete white light may 
represent a perception given by the simple contact of the perceptive 
faculty; viz., physical resistance unembodied with an object. Color may 
represent the contact with the same object by means of the five senses, 
the color differing according to the organ or sense employed. The con- 
tact of the pure perceptive faculty differs, of course, as the objects 
differ. The sensation of the five senses, however, differs not only as 
the objects differ, but also according to the organ of sense employed. 

i. Simple perception, then, without sensation, is mere contact, varying 
only as the objects vary ; but when accompanied by sensation, or rather 
when made through the senses, a contact with an external object is 
colored by the particular sense'through which it is made. The percep- 
tion is the contact, the sensation is the color, which the particular sense 
as a lens gives it ; no more. Rattier might we drop the metaphor, and 
say the truth, that the perception without sensation is that of the 
essence or substance of the object, and that the perception which is 
through the five senses is that of the qualities of the object, as we shall 
soon see. 

j. To say, then, that sensation may be mistaken for perception, is as 
absurd as to say that the color or the odor of an orange could be mis- 
taken for the bulk of the orange when grasped in the hand, or that the 
taste could be mistaken for the pulp in the mouth. There is here no 
possibility for an illusion ; for perception is not sensation, but contact ; 
and that does not depend upon sensation, but upon the mutual impene- 
trability of the perceiver and the perceived. 

k. Sensation is, no, doubt, a true index that an object is now and here 
external to the body ; but two persons, each self-conscious, could know 
this out of the body, and without any senses, just as certainly and easily; 
•therefore it is manifest that physical contact is the true ground of sensa- 
tion, as it is of perception. Every sensation is, therefore, both preceded 
and followed by a perception, the former of substance and the latter of 
quality. The former is through physical resistance, and the latter 
throuarh the five senses. 



THE INTELLECT. 491 

I. And as the mind is cased in a body, and cannot come into contact 
with an object but through the body, therefore there must always be a 
physical contact, or a sensation, in order to the perception of external 
objects. When, therefore, I perceive, 1 have two experiences — a contact 
and a sensation. Something meets my individuality, and comes in 
contact with -m} r impenetrability, both bodily and mental, now, and 
here ; and hence I have a perception. 

m. Sensation alone would not give a perception, because it alone 
would not give the knowledge of my impenetrability ; but self-conscious- 
ness gives conscious impenetrability within, and physical resistance gives 
the fact of contact without ; and thus a perception is also given ; that is, a 
real and impenetrable subjectivity and objectivity are brought together, 
and given by this means as a fact to the reason for cognition. 

n. Sensation does not, necessarily, give contact ; it is compatible with 
penetrability. That sensation cannot give contact is clear from the fact 
that it cannot give self-consciousness; for if it cannot give self-conscious- 
ness, it cannot give individuality ; and if it cannot give individuality, it 
cannot give impenetrability ; and if it cannot give impenetrability, it 
cannot give contact ; and if it cannot give contact, it cannot give per- 
ception ; for perception is the contact of two impenetrabilities. 

o. Sensation is, then, in kind, always and everywhere, different and 
distinct from perception, and when thus understood can by no possibil- 
ity be confounded with it or mistaken for it. Perception, therefore, can 
no more be an illusion of the senses than thought, or an idea, or con- 
sciousness can be an illusion of the senses ; nor can the reality of exter- 
nal objects any more be doubted than the reality of our being can be 
doubted ; for the evidence of each is the same, even the consciousness 
and external experiment. 

p. Now, perception is that act of the reason using the sense, by which 
it reaches out and lays hold of an object, and brings it before itself for 
cognition. It reaches out first by means of physical resistance, and then 
by the five senses ; the physical resistance gives essence, and the five 
senses, sustained by it, give qualities, and bring them before the reason 
for cognition ; and thus are both the substance and the qualities of ob- 
jects known by the sense and the reason through an external ex- 
perience. 

q. And here it appears that the sense is but the instrument of the 
reason, — like a telescope, or thermometer, an ear trumpet, an assa3 r er's 
crucible, a sounding-lead, a chemical solvent, steel filings, or a magnetic 
needle, — and that the reason knows how to interpret these manifesta- 
tions, and cognize them by means of its ideas, and so give to the con- 
sciousness the knowledge of what they are. The senses, therefore, are 
not knowers, but instruments, not comprehenders, but a sort of antennae 



492 AUTOLOGY. 

or tacters used by the reason for the purpose of finding out and bringing 
before it objects for cognition. 

r. As physical resistance, if not as the five senses, the senses are 
possessed by both men and spiritual beings. Yet, as to the five senses 
even, it is more probable that spiritual beings have more such senses 
than human beings have, rather than less. This we have found in 
examining the nature of body and of being embodied, in the last section, 
which see. Having given in this section the nature of Perception, we 
proceed to Cognition. 

SECT. III. THE SEASON COGNIZES. 

a. The reason, having been provided with the categories and with the 
organs of the sense by means of absolute knowing, and having made 
itself aware of the presence of external objects by perception through 
the collision and sensation of the sense, is now prepared to cognize those 
objects by means of the categories. It was necessary first to know 
what the categories are, and what the organs of the sense are, before we 
could use them ; and it was necessary that the reason should first be 
made aware that external objects exist, and perceive that they are pres- 
ent, before it could cognize them and know what they are. 

b. All this knowledge of the facts, and faculties, and instruments of 
the mind, and the ideas formed from them, is, therefore, supercategoric 
knowledge ; and this is what we have been attaining in searching after 
the facts of consciousness, and the ideas of the reason formed from them, 
and the nature and office of the sense, and the act of perception, in the 
preceding sections. That which we shall know by means of the cate- 
gories, in the succeeding chapters, is, however, subcategoric knowledge ; 
and'this brings us at once to the inquiry, — 

A. What are the knowings of the reason under, and by means of, the 
categories and the senses ? 

a. What does the reason do with its qualifications and equipments of 
ideas and perceptions 1 We reply, that under and by means of the cate- 
gories, the reason knows or cognizes ; and that it does this by applying 
the category to an object, or b} 7 bringing the object under the category, 
for these terms describe the same mental act. 

b. We know an object, in its primitive form, by bringing it under some 
one of the primary ideas or categories, and interpreting it by them, or 
by bringing it under and interpreting it by some specific conception of a 
particular object (which is a specific category); and this fact of bringing 
the object under the idea or category is an act of cognition or knowing 
— or judgment or knowing, as some call it; and the whole parade of. 



THE INTELLECT. 493 

logic and the syllogisms is simply the means of seeing that the act of 
cognizing or knowing is done correctly and without fallacy. 

c. Every act of cognition must have two elements; viz., an idea of 
an object, and a perception of it. Without these two things there can 

•be no cognition. We must first know what is knowable of the object; 
that is, have an idea or comprehension of it, which is the category, and 
then we must have an apprehension of its actual and phenomenal pres- 
ence. These two things must first exist, and then they must co-operate; 
neither alone can give us a knowledge of the object. 

d. The idea of an object is merely empty and void ; it is only the 
capability of knowing, not the faculty of knowing the object. Then, on 
the other hand, a perception or apprehension of the object is not know- 
ing it ; it is only knowing that it # is there to be known ; in itself it is no 
cognition, but mere apprehension^ i. e., perception of the presence of 
an unknown object. 

e. But the bringing of a perception under an idea gives knowledge, 
or cognition, of the object so brought before the mind ; perception gives 
only the reality or matter of the object ; the idea, or category, gives only 
the form of it, as Kant calls it; i. e., the vessel that it is measured in, 
or the intellectual form or comprehension. The former gives the thing 
to be known, and the latter the capability of knowing it ; and the two, 
acting conjointly, give the knowledge, or cognition, of the object. 

/. Through the sense, the reason perceives that there is something to 
be known, puts out its feelers, its aniennce, and thus brings the reason 
and the object into mutual contact ; and then the reason applies its idea 
or category to the object, and by it interprets or cognizes it. Thus all 
objects of cognition are made up of form (i. e., intellectual form — de- 
rived from the comprehending mould) — and the matter. 

g. The matter is the material of the form, and the form is the shape 
of the matter shaped by the mind in comprehending it, i. e., the 
material fills the mould or measure, and the same mould or measure 
is the shape of the matter. The matter fills the form, and the form 
holds the matter ; it is therefore plain that in order to cognize an object, 
we must cognize both these things, and they are so intermixed and iden- 
tical, that we cannot know the one without knowing the other. We can 
know the matter only through the form, and can realize the form only 
through the matter. 

h. The same intellect perceives the matter and comprehends the form, 
and it takes the idea or form and realizes it in the matter or sense per- 
ception, as it takes the matter or sense perception and cognizes it in and 
by the form or idea of the reason. The form is the knowable of the ob- 
ject, which the reason has attained from the facts of consciousness. The 
matter is that with which' the act of perception brings us into contact by 



494 AUTOLOGY. 

means of the sense. In one word, the form or idea is the capability, 
which the reason has beforehand, of cognizing an external object ; and 
the matter or sense perception is the object to be cognized, with which 
the act of perception, by means of the sense, brings us into contact. 
Now, the joint action of these two things, viz., the Reason capability of 
knowing, and the Sense perception of the object to be known, gives 
cognition. (Matter here means both the reality and the accidental cover- 
ing of an object.) 

i. The completed act of cognition is this : the reason, having formed 
to itself ideas from the facts of consciousness, and being armed with the 
antennas of the senses, first perceives by the senses that some object is 
present for cognition ; then it cognizes that object by means of its ideas 
formed from the facts of consciousness*, and passes that cognition over 
to the consciousness as a conception of the new fact ; and then the con- 
sciousness applies the new conception to its own original fact, from 
which the idea by which it was obtained was formed, and finds it a 
fitting conception of it ; and thus is the act of cognition complete. 

j. The ne'w fact is cognized by an original idea formed from a fact of 
consciousness, and then that cognition, as a conception of the fact cog- 
nized, is applied to, and verified by, the original fact from which the idea 
by which it was cognized was formed, and this gives complete cognition. 

k. Thus is cognition performed, verified, and completed ; for, in the 
very act of cognizing a fact by an idea, the reason necessarily forms a 
conception of it ; which conception passes over to the consciousness, to, 
be applied to the original fact from which the idea by which it was cog- 
nized was formed ; and thus is the cognizing verified by. both the origi- 
nal idea and the fact already in the reason and in the consciousness ; 
thus is this new conception joined to the original fact as intimately and 
as necessarily as is the original idea itself; and thus does this concep- 
tion come to be a part of the permanent knowledge and furniture of the 
mind — a fixture as necessary and as imperishable as the original ideas 
and facts themselves. * 

B. Hoio is this act of cognition verified? < 

a. Here the question may be raised, How is all this operation proved 
to be real and valid ? The first proof is from consciousness ; for in the 
act of cognizing we are just as conscious of laying hold of or perceiv- 
ing the matter as of possessing and applying the form or the idea of it. 
I am just as conscious of extending my perceptive faculty through the 
sense, and of thus laying hold of the matter, as I am of employing my 
reason in applying to it my idea of it, or my knowledge of the knowable 
of it, which I had before obtained from the facts of consciousness. In 
the one act I am conscious of perceiving that there is an object to be 



THE INTELLECT. 495 

known ; in the other I am conscious of comprehending the object thus 
presented by my knowledge and capability already possessed. 

b. I am not conscious of any cognition of an external object by sim- 
ply possessing the ideas or the knowledge of the knowable which my 
reason obtained from the facts of consciousness ; nor am I conscious of 
any cognition, when I merely engrasp and lay hold of some object, I 
know not what, by the act of perception through the antennae of the 
sense. But when I both grasp the matter by perception and compre- 
hend it by my reason, then do I cognize an object, and the whole act is 
fully vouched for by the same consciousness as joining the subjective 
and the objective, the sense and the reason, in one act of knowledge of 
a real object in the external world. 

c. Thus the reason, armed with ideas formed from the original facts 
of consciousness behind it, and being brought into contact with external 
objects b} T the apparatus of the sense before it, cognizes external ob- 
jects ; and this cognition is the interpreting of a fact by an idea — the 
knowing of the external objects with which the sense brings us into 
contact by means of the ideas which the reason has already formed from 
the facts of' consciousness. 

d. "The bringing together of an intuition and a conception," says 
Kant, " is cognition ; " for, says he, " intuitions alone are blind, and 
conceptions alone are void," but the two brought together give cogni- 
tion. The conceptions are, according to him, the " schemata," given be- 
forehand, of the sensuous intuitions, and according to which they must 
be. We have, however, seen that these conceptions, which we call 
ideas, are formed from facts, and are, hence, not void, but the real ideas 
of real things, and the valid interpreters of the intuitions or percep- 
tions of objects brought before the mind by the sense. Those ideas are 
not, therefore, a priori, but are a posteriori, being formed from facts, 
and hence are rightly applied to facts as the explanation of them. 

e. Cognition is, then, the explaining or interpreting, by the reason, 
through the ideas which it has formed from the facts of consciousness, 
of an object with which it has been brought into contact by physical 
resistance, or the five senses. Now, these cognitions are as various as 
the objects which are brought before the mind for cognition. They vary, 
not according to the power of the mind to know, but according to the 
objects to be known. The original ideas or categories of the mind, 
formed from the facts of consciousness, do cover all the objects in the 
universe, and are sufficient to cognize them all ; though other facts and 
peculiarities will be learned about those objects, and other ideas formed 
upon them after they' are known, by the primitive ideas, besides those 
which the original ideas and cognitions of them give. 

/. The primary categories or ideas are of a very general character, 



496 AUTOLOGY. 

and disregard all peculiarities. The facts and forms that individualize 
are gathered up from without, and may take their place as conceptions 
and ideas in the mind with which to cognize other facts and objects as 
they may come before the reason for cognition. 

g. To illustrate the operation of cognition under the categories, take 
some of them as found by consciousness and the reason, and put them 
to the test of experiment. 

(1.) Wo will begin with the category of cause. I look out upon a 
flooded stream as it comes down the valley of its usual bed ; it rises, 
and swells, and overflows its banks, and presses with increased current 
and augmented volume down its course, until, coming to a bridge, usu- 
ally high above its surface, the swollen waters lift it from its foundation, 
and bear it away on their bosom, and precipitate it over the cataract, 
and dash it to pieces. Here I see a cause, by its own force producing an 
effect. Now I apply my knowledge of cause, already formed into an 
idea and a category from the primary facts of consciousness, to this 
event, and I cognize it at once as a fact of cause and effect. I see 
both the cause and the effect, and the connection between them ; 
it is precisely • what I have before known of the nature and work- 
ing of cause producing an effect. The cause is a force producing a 
result, not simply an antecedent of it. My senses here, as my con- 
sciousness before, teach me that cause is a force, not simply an antece- 
dent, .and that this force produces the result. And what consciousness 
and sense here teach as simple and individual facts the reason affirms as 
a necessary principle ; and thus we cognize this external phenomenon 
of the senses by the category or idea of the reason already possessed 
by the mind and formed from the facts of consciousness. 

(2.) Taking up the next category, viz., time, we apply it to this 
transpiring event and find that it is enclosed in time ; it began", pro- 
gressed, and ended in a space of time. * 

(3.) Again, taking up the whole phenomenon from cause to effect, 
and from beginning to end, it is all enclosed in space ; for it is all an 
object or quantit} r before the sight, and occupying space. 

(4.) We cognize it, therefore, by the category of quantity, as an 
object occupying space. 

(5.) Following the water to the sea, we find the ceaseless action and 
reaction, which keeps it pure, and by which perpetual evaporation is car- 
ried on, clouds are formed, and the rain, and snow, and thaws are pro- 
duced, which supply fountain, field, and river, and flow back to ocean 
again, preserving the life of both land and sea. All this we cognize 
under the category of Action and Reaction. 

h. We now come to the category of substance. This is first formed, 
as we have seen, by physical resistance. Two objects are brought into 



THE INTELLECT. 497 

contact ; they mutually resist each other, and, though colliding with 
ever so much violence, still remain mutually impenetrable and incom- 
pressible ; thus do they demonstrate the presence and fact of a sub- 
stance in each. Impenetrability is the essence of essence, the substance 
of substance. Having thus found the substance by this physical resist- 
ance, we next find the qualities that inhere in it, by means of the five 
senses. With these we examine and test the object until we find all 
the qualities that inhere in it. Take, for instance, an apple. We find 
it has the qualities of roundness, color, odor, taste, mellowness, and 
others, and, thus we cognize the facts of substance and qualities by 
means of the categories of substance and quality already formed from 
the facts of consciousness. 

i. But will it be said, that we cannot demonstrate the presence or 
existence of substance in any object before us by means of physical 
resistance, for all the qualities that it manifests may be destroyed by 
the contact ; One object may be harder or stronger than the other, and 
be able to demolish all that exists, so that nothing will be left to meet 
and sustain the contact of physical resistance. To this it is replied, 
that this is only comparative as to the endurance of the two objects. 
If the one is weaker than the other, the weaker will disappear ; i.e., 
take another form, so that it will not be tangible to the gross form of 
the first ; that is all ; it is not at all proved that there is no substance. 

/ Should each dash the other to pieces, still the subtile forces of cohe- 
sion would remain. In the case of two human beings, should they each 
dash against the other until the body disappear, still their spirits would 
be mutually repellent, and would maintain their conscious individuality 
and separate substance. The same is true of all material objects ; the 
fact that they disappear is owing to our want of faculties to discover 
them. 

k. Should all the inhabitants of the globe attack Mont Blanc, they 
might, in process of time, dig it down and throw it into the Mediterra- 
nean, and so of any other material object, as a tree, a house, or any 
other thing. We might here, for want of faculties, when we had de- 
stroyed the qualities, be unable to find the substance by physical resist- 
ance, and the impenetrability which it discloses and demonstrates, as we 
can in the case of two human beings, who, when they have mutually 
destroyed each other's body, find their self-consciousness still mutually 
repellent, impenetrable, and individual ; but let the inhabitants of the 
whole earth attempt to dig down and destroy the whole earth, and 
throw away all its tangible parts, and then they will find that it has 
indeed an indestructible and impenetrable substance, even the force 
of gravitation, which hplds all the qualities of the earth in indissoluble 
inherence. 

63 



498 AUTOLOGY. 

I. Thus it is demonstrated by physical resistance that there is a sub- 
stance as well as qualities, and that substance, as well as qualities, is 
tangible and impenetrable. With this fact of the whole earth with 
its substance before us, we see that the fact that we are unable to 
detect the substance of a tree, animal, or any other thing in nature 
by physical resistance, proves nothing but the defectiveness of our 
faculties. 

m. As to the modes of existence, as possible, actual, and necessary, 
facts abound on every hand to be cognized by these categories. I cog- 
nize anything as possible which conforms to the conditions of the actual ; 
viz., that a man may walk a rope, turn a. somerset, measure ten feet high, 
or weigh a thousand pounds ; I cognize that as actual of which I have a 
sensuous perception, and to which I apply one of the categories of cog- 
nition,. That is necessary which is made so by the existence of other 
things, as that all right angles are equal, the parent must be before 
the child. Thus do the categories and the sense perceptions, the reason 
and the sense, co-operate in cognizing external objects, and thus are ex- 
ternal things known. 

C. Further verification of the act of cognition. 

a. Should the question still be raised, Is not all this illusion ? is not 
the supposed connection between the perception and the idea imaginary, 
and the cognition, consequently, a mere seeming? Granting that the 
perception is real, is not the cognition an illusion ? To this it is replied, 
that the consciousness has already, in this section, been shown to bear 
testimony to the certainty and connection of the two acts of perception 
and cognition. 

b. But for further illustration and confirmation we may review the 
ground already gone over, and re-examine it with the same and further 
illustrations. To wit, is the idea of the reason actually applied to the 
perceptions of the sense, and does it rightly interpret them ? That we 
may more clearly see the unity of the ac'ts of perception through 
the sense, and cognition through the ideas of the reason, let us .review 
the following illustrations : Let the object to be cognized be an apple, 
and let it be cognized simply as an object or quantity, and, of course, 
under the idea, or category, of quantity. In the first instance, the per- 
ceptive faculty comes into contact with it by means of the antennas of the 
sense. It touches it, measures round it with eye or finger moving from 
point to point, until it completes the whole survery. It starts with a 
point as unity, or one ; it adds to it point after point as plurality, and 
completes at length the whole in one totality ; and while so doing, the 
reason, at the same instant, in noting these steps of the perceptive 
faculty, applies its ideas of quantity to it, and thus cognizes it, forms its 



THE INTELLECT. 499 

cognition- of the object ; or rather, it applies its idea to it, announcing 
its name, and thus cognizes it. 

c. Still the illustration may not be satisfactory, and the question 
may still be raised, "How do we know that the idea in the reason 
actually applies to, and rightly interprets, the object in the sense ? " and 
to this it may be replied, that the unity of the faculty of cognition 
and of perception, and of the acts of perception and cognition, in know- 
ing an external object, may be aptly compared to the head and the feet, 
and the unity of their action, in the following instance : suppose an in- 
dividual to measure a rod square of ground by the simple and ordinary 
method of pacing its several sides ; to wit, from a given point he steps 
five paces to the north ; then, making a right angle, he steps five more 
to the east ; then, making another right angle, he steps five to the 
south ; and then, in like manner, making another right angle, he steps 
five paces to the west, to the place of beginning. Thus he has 
measured off complete the rod square of ground, as was proposed. 

d. Now, if in this operation the feet be made to represent, as they in 
reality do, the faculty and the act of perception- through and by means 
of the sense, — that is, the faculty of corning into contact with external 
objects, — and the head be made to represent, as it rn fact does, the 
idea or the category, — that is, the reason with its idea and category, or 
the faculty that has already on hand the idea and the knowledge of the 
knowable, with which to cognize objects — and if we mark how the head 
notes the steps of the feet, numbers and computes them, and gathers up 
the result as one total, we shall have a complete illustration of the rela- 
tion of the faculties, and of the operation of cognizing an object as 
simply a thing or quantity. 

e. We here see that the movement of the feet over the matter or 
space of the rod square, and the notations of the reason in collecting its 
instants or steps under its idea of a square, from the first unity, or one 
single point or step towards a plurality of points or steps, and to stepping 
round to a complete totality at the place of beginning, — that is, each 
step of the feet from the first, step to the second, and so around to the 
last, — arc simultaneous and identical in action with the noting of it 
by the head, having the same consciousness in one and the same unity, 
each performing parts of the same single cognition. 

/. The rod square is cognized by the unity of the twofold act of the 
head and the feet, nor is there any possible doubt but that the notations 
of the head are of the steps of the feet, or that the steps of the feet are 
the notations of the head, or that the rod square paced by the feet is the 
same as conceived by the head. The head applies its idea of a rod 
square to the portion of ground paced by the feet, and does this in and by 
the act of pacing it ; each step of the pacing is noted by the reason, and 



500 AUTOLOGY. 

is a step of the application of the idea of the reason to the perception, 
which, when complete, completes the cognition. 

g. Now, the application of the idea of the reason to an object per- 
ceived is affirmed by the same consciousness that affirms the act of 
perceiving ; indeed, we have already shown them to be identical in con- 
sciousness. By pacing the perception, we apply it to the idea, and by 
pacing the notation of the idea, we apply it to the perception ; and by 
applying thus the idea and the perception to each other, we pace the 
cognition of the object ; the acts thus become identical, so that the con- 
sciousness that affirms the objectivity of the thing perceived affirms 
also the objectivity of the idea of the thing perceived as belonging to it. 
The reality of our knowledge and the reality of the objects of our 
knowledge are thus both established by the same act of consciousness. 

h. In like manner may we verify our cognition of Quality. The per- 
ceptive faculty separates the qualities of an object one from another in 
distinguishing and discerning them, as the roundness, color, odor, and 
taste of an apple ; and the reason, noting the acts of separating and 
distinguishing, applies unto the quality thus separated, as the roundness, 
its own idea of roundness, and thus cognizes it as a quality, and so of 
each quality as inhering in the apple and constituting it. 

i. We now come to the category of Relation, including cause, sub- 
stance, and reciprocal action : and here we shall find also that we may 
verify the reality and the truthfulness of the cognitions of cause and sub- 
stance, and reciprocal action, under these categories respectively, as 
certainly and reliably, and by the same experimental test, as in the pre- 
ceding categories of Quantity and Quality just given. 

j. But here first, in the explanation of the operation of cognition 
under the category of relation as substance and cause, it must be ob- 
served that in cognizing under the two preceding categories, the idea 
with which we cognized has been applied directly to the object, and has 
been found to be embodied in it ; as the idea of an apple was found em- 
bodied in it by analyzing the apple. But now in cognizing, not the 
object itself but the substance or cause of the object, we shall find that 
the idea of substance or cause applies, not to the object, but to the 
converse of the object. 

k. The direct object of sense is quantity or quality. These are 
directly the objects of the ideas of quantity and of quality, but they are 
the indirect objects of the ideas of cause and substance. The idea of 
a cause is very different from the idea of an effect, so also is the fact of 
cause different from the fact of effect. The idea of quality is different 
from the idea of substance, so also is the fact of quality different from 
the fact of substance ; and so great is this difference that almost all 
authors affirm that there cannot be shown to be any cause from an effect, 



THE INTELLECT. 501 

or any substance from,qualities ; that is, that the phenomenal appear- 
ance of an effect or of a quality is not like the phenomenal appearance 
of a cause or of a substance, and they are no proof of their existence ; in- 
deed, that neither substance nor cause can be phenomenal at all. That 
it is the office of that part of the sense which we call physical resist- 
ance to come into contact with and perceive substance, as it is the office 
of the five senses to meet and perceive quality, we have already shown. 

I). All causes are phenomenal in their effects, as substances are in 
their qualities, and hence are perceptible. 

a. We now propose to show that effects give the phenomenal forms 
of causes as really, though not to the same extent, as qualities give the 
phenomenal forms of substances ; that is, that when an effect gives 
directly its own phenomenal form, it gives conversely the phenomenal 
form of its cause ; and that while a quality gives directly its own phenom- 
enal form, it gives conversely the phenomenal form of its own sub- 
stance or essence ; and thus that the cause and substance of objects are 
phenomenal as well as their quantity and qualities. 

b. For illustration : when we cognize a leaden bullet as an object or 
effect, and the mould of that bullet as the cause. When the sense 
comes in contact with such a bullet, -I apply my idea of such a bullet 
directly to it, and cognize it as a bullet ; that is, I examine it, and find 
the realization of my whole idea of a bullet ; this is a direct application 
of my idea of the object, and it is called analytical knowing, or judging, 
or cognizing. 

c. But when I consider the object bullet, which is present, and use 
it to cognize the cause or mould of the bullet, which is absent, then I 
apply my idea of a bullet in the reverse order — that is, turned inside 
out — from what I do in cognizing the object bullet. The idea of a 
ball is that of a convex globe — the idea of the mould of the bullet is 
that of a concave space. Now, this last is the converse of the first, and 
this last act is called a synthetical, and not an analytical judgment, be- 
cause it is supposed to unite the object or effect bullet with something 
that does not appear in it, or belong to it, but is separate from it, like 
the mould. 

d. But there seems to be no occasion for this distinction ; for the 
effect is as much the sensuous phenomenon of the cause as it is of itself. 
To wit, the roundness or shape of the bullet as certainly fills my idea of 
the mould of the bullet, as it does my idea of the bullet itself ; and hence 
the cognition of the mould seems to be as directly from the bullet as 
does the cognition of the bullet itself. 

e. Let the facts be changed — let me have the mould present before 
me, and let the bullet be absent. Then will the mould be directly the 



502 AUTOLOGY. 

phenomenon of a mould, and conversely the phenomenon of a bullet. 
Who will say that the ball cannot be distinctly cognized as the absent 
effect of the mould as its cause ? Most certainly it can. And if so, 
why cannot the absent mould be cognized by the present ball. If I can 
form the idea of the absent bullet from the present mould, surely I can 
form the idea of the absent mould from the present bullet, and the bullet 
may be regarded as the cause of the mould as properly as its effect. 

/. The idea of the bullet, therefore, and the idea of the cause of the 
bullet, arise and are formed with equal directness out of the same bullet, 
which is a phenomenon before me. In analyzing the bullet, I find it 
has roundness, and is spherical ; by uniting these qualities in a sub- 
stance, I find the result, a bullet. But, on the other hand, by ana- 
lyzing these same qualities in relation to their cause, we have the mould 
as our idea, and as the fact of cause, from this same ball. We do find 
by analyzing the bullet that a mould or cause must have been, and of 
what kind or shape that mould or cause must have been. 

g. It is not, then, correct to say that an effect is so unlike its cause 
as to give no idea of it ; for it is the precise image of its cause, only in 
the converse form. The ball is spherical and convex, the mould out of 
which it came is vacant and concave ; but the ball is as perfectly the 
image of the mould as it is the image of itself. The ball directly 
answers to the idea or image of a ball, but conversely it answers to the 
idea or image of the mould of a ball. In both cases, we analyze the 
ball, and in both cases the constituents of the ball, or rather the quali- 
ties of the ball, fill the idea with which we cognize it. 

h. We may cognize a ball with the idea or image of its mould, or 
witli the idea or image of a ball. In the one case we cognize the ball 
simply as an object, and in the other as an effect whose cause is shown 
by its shape. The bullet is the direct embodiment of the idea of a 
bullet; it is the converse embodiment of the cause or mould of the 
bullet. 

i. With the ideas, and under the categories, of quantity and quality, 
we cognize the ball as simply an object. With the category of cause 
we cognize the same ball, not simply as an object, but as an effect which 
had a cause, and we cognize it by that cause; and thus is it proved 
that this bullet is the direct phenomenal object in which is realized and 
embodied the idea of a bullet. And thus also it appears that this self- 
same bullet is the converse phenomenal embodiment of the cause or mould 
of the same bullet ; and hence it is proved that causes have phenomenal 
appearances in all cases, as well as their effects have, and in the same 
object. 

j. In further illustration of the fact that cause has a phenomenal 
appearance, let us recur to the instance of a flowing stream, already 



TIIE INTELLECT. 503 

employed. In cognizing the cause of any object, we note the marks of 
beginningness, or of eventuating in it ; as, for instance, the flowing of 
Water down a channel. The perceptive faculty passes over the successive 
instants of time, and the material motions or steps of a successive mov- 
ing in a direct and fixed order, an order that cannot be reversed, as the 
flowing of a stream. 

k. Now, the reason notes in each of these instants of successive 
beginningness (that is, the evidence that they are beginning things, and 
not self-existent), and in noting the steps of perception, applies unto 
them its idea of a cause or a beginner, as a force essentially active, and 
thus cognizes the cause of the flowing of the water as . an essentially 
active force. 

I. And so of any other event ; when we perceive change, or the evi- 
dence of change (that is, of beginningness), the reason, in noting such 
change, or such evidence of change, applies to them its idea of cause, 
arid interprets them, comprehends them, cognizes them, by its idea of 
cause, or the principle that every begun thing must have a beginner. 
Now, the idea of the cause is just the converse of the idea of the effect, 
as the fact of cause is the converse of the fact of an effect. The effect 
which we look upon, in this instance, is the moving water. The cause, 
i. e., the idea of cause which we apply to this effect, is that of an essen-' 
tially active and moving force, and it applies to the moving water on the 
reversed side from that to which the idea of the effect itself — viz., the 
moving water — applies to it. 

m. As the stamp applies to the image on the wax, or the mould to 
the ball, so the idea of a cause applies to the object which is its effect. 
It is direct in itself, but indirect in relation to the application of the idea 
to the. effect; as the concave stamp in intaglio is the converse of the 
convex image or figure in relievo or cameo on the wax. Thus has cause 
clearly a phenomenal and objective appearance, in all cases, in its 
effect. 

n. We now come to another category ; viz., Action and Reaction ; 
and here also we observe that the perceptive faculty brings the reason 
into contact with a movement alternately in opposite directions, as the 
swinging of a pendulum, or the swaying of a tree, or the motion of the 
waves. The reason, noting such movement, applies to it, and interprets 
it by its idea of reciprocal cause, or action and reaction. And here also 
the idea is not the direct idea of the object, but the idea of the cause of 
the object, which, of course, applies to the converse of the object ; that 
is, reversely to the present object, as the concave stamp to the figure 
which it has made on the soft wax. This figure is the object of its own 
idea directly, and the object of the idea of the stamp conversely. 

o. We come now to the category of Substance, and find here, as in 



504 AUTOLOGY. 

the case of cause and effect, that the same object gives the phenomenal 
appearance for two things which are each the converse of the other ; to 
wit, quality and substance. When under the category of substance and 
quality we observe certain qualities, as the roundness, color, flavor, 
&c, of an apple, having fixedness of place and time, the reason, noting 
the perception of these qualities, applies to them its idea of quality in- 
hering in a substance, and thus cognizes them as qualities. So also when 
the perceptive faculty perceives the same roundness, color, flavor, &c, of 
an apple, the reason, in noting that perception, applies to it the idea of 
the substance, apple, as holding these qualities in inherence in that sub- 
stance, thus cognizing the substance. 

p. And here the idea of the substance and the fact of the substance 
are precisely the reverse of the idea and the fact of the qualities of the 
apple to which it is applied; yet the idea of- the substance does as in- 
telligently interpret and apply to the combined qualities of the apple, as 
they make one whole apple, as does the idea of the qualities to the qual- 
ities themselves. The qualities are here the converse of the substance, 
as the mould is the converse of the ball cast in it. Yet the qualities are 
the direct embodiment of the idea of themselves, but the converse em- 
bodiment of the substance of the qualities. 

q. It is true that the substance does not here appear as a physical 
thing, as does cause in the case of the mould of a ball, or the stamp of a 
figure in wax ; but it does appear as a force, as much as did the moving- 
force that impelled the water down the valley in that case of cause ; and 
as that moving body of water was both the object of the idea of a mov- 
ing body of water and also the object of the idea of the moving force 
that moved that body of water, so also are the qualities of an apple the 
object and embodiment of the idea of the qualities of an apple, and also 
the object of the idea and embodiment of the substance and force which 
produced the apple, and in which those qualities inhere. 

r. The substance of the apple holds the same relation to the qualities 
of the apple that cause does to its effect. What is the substance of the 
apple but those vegetative forces that come up through sap, and bud, 
and blossom, and deposit themselves in the apple, making the apple pre- 
cisely, in color, taste, and pulp, and shape, and bulk, what they have 
force to make them. These qualities, then, are the embodiment of the 
substance as well as of the idea of themselves. They are the matter of 
the substance, while the substance is the formative force of them. The 
substance takes on the qualities as forms, while the qualities are out- 
growths of the substance, and are shaped upon it, and must be just what 
it is. 

s. The connection between substance and quality is as necessary and 
as inevitable as that between cause and effect ; and the quality is just 



THE INTELLECT. 505 

what the substance makes it, and fully embodies and represents the 
whole substance. Therefore the qualities of an apple are the objects in 
which the ideas of those qualities are embodied, and also the object in 
which the substance is embodied ; but the ideas of the qualities are em- 
bodied directly, while the substance is embodied conversely. Even as 
the mould is conversely embodied in the thing moulded, so is the sub- 
stance of the apple embodied conversely in the qualities of the apple. 

t. The substance of a thing is the potential form of the thing ; the 
qualities are the form of that thing as object. The substance produces 
and shapes the qualities, and the qualities embody the substance, so that 
they are identical, yet each the converse of the other, like a medallion 
stamped on a thin metallic plate, in which each prominence on the one 
side is produced by making a corresponding depression on the other, 
and each side is the precise converse of the other. 

u. As the soul of man beams out and is embodied in the shape and 
expression of the face, so do the qualities of an object embody and ex- 
press the substance or essence of an object ; and as the idea of a face is 
embodied in a living face directly, so is the soul conversely embodied in 
the face. The spirit behind is the mould of the face in front ; so does the 
substance of a thing form its qualities, and the one is the precise con- 
verse of the other. 

v. Such is the relation of the same object to its substance and its 
qualities ; it is direct to the one, and converse to the other. The sub- 
stance embodies itself necessarily in qualities, and qualities necessarily 
take shape and nature from their substance, and thus the same object is 
the phenomenal representation of both. The qualities inhere in the sub- 
stance, while the substance holds the qualities in inherence. The essence 
springs up into a quality, while the quality embodies the essence or 
substance ; the qualities are the image of the substance conversely, 
while they are their own body directly. 

w. Passing from inanimate nature to animal life, we may take any 
object, as a horse. This we cognize not alone by the universal categories 
of matter ; they do not cover what is peculiar to animal life. But after 
having found out what we can by applying the categories of cause, 
effect, time, quantity, space, action and reaction, substance, quality, &c, 
we find that we have not yet reached all its peculiarities. 

x. We therefore take the categories of animate nature, and apply 
them to the animal before us, and we thus cognize it : to wit, we perceive 
in a horse the phenomena of animal life, a self, a sensuous consciousness 
and intelligence, sulf-sustentative appetites, self-defensive dispositions, 
parentive feelings, gregarious habits, and susceptibility to approbation 
and kindness ; whereupon we apply to this assemblage of phenomena 
our idea of animal life already formed, and cognize it as such. Our 
64 



506 AUTGLOGY. 

categories enable us to know only that it is an animal. All further 
knowledge is ascertained when we come to the operation of abstraction 
and generalization in a succeeding section. 

y. Lastly, that free cause embodies itself in its effects is most obvious. 
Shakspeare, Milton, Kant, embodied their genius in their works ; so did 
Raphael and Angelo, Mozart and Beethoven ; so did Fulton and Morse. 
By their works they are seen, heard, and known ; their works embody 
their genius and life in a converse form, so that we can prove their ex- 
istence and nature from their works. 

E. Man, as effect, is phenomenal of God the Absolute. 

1. a. The next object to which we come is a human being, and this 
we seek to cognize, as .before, by applying to it the universal categories! 
And here we see that by the categories of cause, effect, time, object, 
space, action and reaction, substance, and qualities, we may find out 
much, very much, about a human being, but not all. 

b. We then pass to the categories of animate nature, and find out 
something more ; for man is an animal as well as a part of inanimate 
nature ; but when we have exhausted' all these categories, and found that 
neither the universal categories of all being, nor the categories of animal 
nature, will suffice to explain and cognize the whole of humanity, we 
come to the categories of personality themselves, and apply them to the 
phenomena of humanity, and by them we are able to. cognize it; to wit, 
with the category of will, with all its elements, and the intellect, with 
its consciousness, reason, and sense, and the affections,' with all their 
varieties, and the conscience, and the completed personality as personal 
cause, we can cognize and comprehend the being and nature of a fellow 
human being. 

c. When we contemplate that being as simply an object before us, 
we find in all men will, affections, intellect, and conscience, and a com- 
plete personality, as a free, rational, affectional, and ethical cause ; and 
thus we know humanity. But this does not satisfy us, nor fully cognize 
all that is in man. 

2. a. We see man before us, not simply as an object, but as an effect, 
as a created being, having a spirit nature which does not die. The first 
denotes an author of the soul, the latter its immortality. Let us see 
what we can know of these things. We have cognized man under the 
categories of personality, as a human personalit}', and by reason of his 
spiritual nature, whose spirit does not die, we cognize him under the 
category of immortal personality, and as created and having a begun ex- 
istence, and being a free, rational, affectional, ethical, and accountable 
soul, he can be cognized only by the category of an immortal person- 
ality. 



THE INTELLECT. 507 

b. To wit ; for a being of a spirit nature, who cannot be shown to be 
mortal; and who, withal, is a rational and an accountable being-, a being 
who, knowing the right, does the wrong, or, doing the right, is wronged, 
there is no complement to existence but in a future life, and no means 
of being cognised but bj r the category of immortal personality. The 
reason perceives these facts, applies to themjts idea of an immortal 
personality, and then cognizes the man as an immortal soul. 

3. a. But rising above this, and contemplating man as an effect, hav- 
ing had a beginning-, we come to him not only as a human personality, 
and as an immortal personality, but as a created, free, affectional, 
rational, and ethical personality, a created soul, a created personal cause. 
And as such, a created person, a created personal effect, we come to ask 
for the creator of this person, the cause of this effect. And to this the 
reply is, that an absolute personality alone can be the creator of this 
personality, the personal cause of this personal effect. 

b. To prove this, let us recall the investigations under the head of 
Cause in the categories of universal being. We there found that an 
effect was a phenomenal embodiment both of itself as an object and of 
its cause ; of the first directly, and of the second conversely. This was 
illustrated by the impression of a stamp upon wax, in which the convex 
figure of a head on the wax was the phenomenal embodiment of the 
figure itself, say a head of Washington, and the phenomenal embodiment 
also of the concave stamp or mould by which it was made. • 

c. Just so now, in this case before us, the created human personality, 
with will, intellect, affections, and conscience, completed in one person- 
ality and living cause, is the phenomenal embodiment, first, of the hu- 
man personality ; and second, it is conversely the phenomenal embodi- 
ment of the absolute personality, which, having the same image of will, 
affections, intellect, conscience, and personality, as a living cause, cre- 
ated this human personality in its own image and likeness, and as a 
personal cause caused this personal effect. 

d. The Bible says that man is in the image of God, and if so, God 
must be in the im'age of man ; and precisely so we find it here in the 
philosophy and facts of the case. The human soul, with its will, affec- 
tions, intellect, and conscience, forming a personal cause and one com- 
plete personality, is in the image of God ; for God created man in his 
own image. He is therefore like God in these respects indirectly, just 
as he is like himself directly. 

e. The creative hand moulded man's spirit after the Creator himself, 
as an artist would mould a statue of himself, and God himself took on 
the body of man in Christ, so that we can say on authority, man is in 
the image of God. But as God has given us no direct likeness of him- 
self, apart from man, and we have no phenomenal presence of God to 



508 AUTOLOGY. 

look upon, as ho does not, in his own direct, proper, and phenomenal 
person, appear to our senses, so we cannot verify the likeness of man to 
the likeness of God by actual and sensuous comparison except only as 
we see him incarnate in the person of Jesus Christ. We take it thus on 
God's testimony that he is in the image of man, as man is in his image. 

f. However, when we. consider the human personality as an effect of 
a personal cause, then is the human personality as an effect like the 
cause ; and as in the instance of the stamp and the figure in the wax 
it is the phenomenal embodiment both of itself as th« figure and of the 
stamp as the cause of the figure. The human personality is, therefore, 
the phenomenal embodiment of a human personality, and it is the em- 
bodiment of the cause of that personality. The idea of human person- 
ality is directly embodied in man ; the idea of an absolute or creative 
personality, who created, caused, and moulded this human personality, 
is embodied conversely in this human personality. 

g. In the human personality we see the figure on the wax ; it is di- 
rectly the figure of the human personality; it is at the same time. the 
reverse figure of the divine or absolute personality which created and 
was the mould of it. The figure of the head in the wax holds the same 
relation to the head of which it is the figure, and to the stamp or mould 
that shaped it in the wax, that steel and wood engraving do to each 
other. That part that has the dark shade in the steel engraving has the 
light shade in the wood engraving, so that the same picture is an image 
or embodiment alike both of the engraving on the wood and of the en- 
graving on the steel. 

h. Now, in the light of this fact, the protruding figure in wax is the 
image of the concave stamp, just as truly and certainly as it is of the 
head of Washington, which it represents, and which the stamp shapes. 
So also is man as truly and certainly the image of God as he is of man, 
whom God created in his own image, only as in the case of the picture 
made by a wooden and a steel plate : what is light in one is shade in the 
other, and vice versa. (See paragraphs 5 and 6.) 

4. a. But how does it appear that the human personality, as effect, 
embodies the divine personality, as cause ? And how does the human 
personality, as an effect, prove that its cause is. a person at all ? And 
how does it prove that that personal cause is an absolute person, 
i. e., that God is the author of man's being? To this it is replied, first, 
that in order to prove the existence of an absolute personal cause, or 
God, it is necessary to show that the existence of something had a be- 
ginning ; for that which had a beginning absolutely, was created ; and 
whatsoever can create is an absolute personal cause, or God. 

b. Second, man is the only being or thing in the universe whose ex- 
istence can be proved to have had an absolute beginning, and thus is 



THE INTELLECT. , . 509 

the human personality, as effect, the proof of God's existence as cause, 
and the embodiment of the converse of that cause, i. e., of its effect; 
for every effect is the converse of its cause. 

c. Is it asked, " What is a begun existence ? " The reply is, it is an 
existence which does not have its source in any blind force or element 
of nature, acting by the necessity of its own nature, but which has 
its beginning outside of nature and independent of it, and in the will of 
a free, rational personality. Where, then, do we find such an existence? 
Where is there anything so begun ? 

d. The reply is this. The soul of man, or man as a person, is a be- 
gun existence. Man is not nature, nor a modification of nature. He is 
not self-existent, nor the product of blind forces. Man is mind and spirit, 
and of course could not come from nature's causes ; neither nature nor 
any blind force could give him existence ; but man is a being whose na- 
ture is free and rational, and whose existence had an intended beginning 
out of nature, and by the choice of free and rational beings ; to wit, every 
human being had his origin, not in natural causes, as plants and ani- 
mals do, but in the free choice of human parents. This is proved to be 
man's origin, not only because he is a free, rational soul, and therefore 
could have no other origin, but it is also a known and historical fact. 

e. Hence it is proved that man is a being whose existence had a be- 
ginning out of nature; and that because he is neither nature nor. of 
nature, but mind and spirit, rational, and free, and ethical ; and also be- 
cause he has, as a fact, human, parents ; therefore the first man must 
have been created by a free, rational person ; but the act of creation is 
the act of God; therefore the cause. of man must have been God; it 
must have been a being rational and free, who could create, who could 
give being by' his own will and power. 

/. Thus is it proved that while the human person is the phenomenal 
form of an effect, and also the phenomenal form of its own cause, it is 
also proved that that cause was God ; for none but God can create. To 
create a stone would be as much proof of the being of God as to create 
a man ; for the power to create anything is proof of the power to 
create ; but we cannot prove that a stone, or anything else except the 
human soul, ever was created ; that is, had its beginning out of nature, 
and in the reason and will of a person. But the human soul, by its own 
spirituality, is shown to have had its origin out of nature ; for it is not 
nature, but mind, and no part of nature, and of course could never come 
from nature. And, as we have seen, the human person is known his- 
torically to have its origin in the will of human parents, and so is not 
of nature. Thus is a human being the phenomenal embodiment of God 
as his Author or Cause. 

g. Hence we have God's phenomenal presence in every human per- 



510 . AUTOLOGY. 

sonality, just as the figure on the stamp gives the presence of the mould 
that shaped it, as well as the figure itself. Thus may we know God 
with our human faculties. We have found him first present in the world, 
embodied in the nature of man, by means of the category of personal 
cause, of which man was the effect. 

h. We now take the fact thus found, viz., man as the effect of God's 
creative power, embodying God's phenomenal presence in the human 
personality, and cognize it by an idea of an absolute personality already 
formed by the reason from the facts of consciousness, and in this way 
we may know God just as we know any other external thing ; to wit, by 
bringing together a phenomenal perception of him and an idea of him. 

i. Here, by Kant's own canon, we know God ; first, in an analytical 
judgment through the category of cause, and second, by a direct and 
simple cognition by means of a phenomenal and sensuous perception, 
and an idea, just as we cognize man or any other external object. God 
becomes thus an object of sense, and we cognize him as such through 
perception and ideas. 

5. a. In still another respect God may become manifest to the mind 
as a phenomenon, even where the effect which he has produced and 
created is not taken as his likeness or his phenomenal embodiment. God 
actually appears to human apprehension in his own proper person. For 
illustration, take an indenture, i. e., a parchment, on which was written 
in olden times an agreement or contract in full, and which, when com- 
plete, was cut through the centre in an irregular manner, say like the 
teeth of a saw, or otherwise, so that each party might have half of it for 
security. On bringing the fractional part, and showing that it was the 
precise counterpart of that which the other party had, and placing them 
together, and' showing that they actually fit each other, and that thus 
the writing can be read, the validity of both and of the contract as a 
bona fide transaction are shown. 

b. Just so man, the created personal soul, and God, the absolute, 
personal Creator, mark off each other. Man as a created person we 
have in ourselves as one part of the indenture ; God the absolute per- 
sonal Creator is the other part of the indenture, and they correspond 
each to the other. As the holder of the one part of parchment' could 
always tell the precise shape of the other part, when looking at his own, 
so we, having in our own person man as a begun and ci*eated personal 
existence, can look upon it and know what the absolute and personal _ 
Creator is, and must be, in order to be able to create man ; for while 
man cannot be said to be cut out of God, yet he partakes of the divine 
nature, and is moulded into the image of God. If, therefore, man, with 
his free, affectional, rational, ethical, and created nature, is present to our 
intelligence, he will be to us the begun and the created, the counterpart 



THE INTELLECT. 511 

of God the beginner and the creator, who is himself also a free, affec- 
tional, rational, and ethical personality. 

c. A still more palpable illustration of God's actual and phenomenal 
presence in the world we find in the following- view ; viz. : — 

6. a. Looking- upon a picture, you see a grass plat with sheep, cattle, 
birds, and walks, and fence, and also two tall, irregular trees rising in the 
air. At first nothing more attracts your attention ; indeed, you might 
see it a thousand times, nay, for a lifetime, and die seeing nothing more; 
nor would your intelligence or your vision be at fault. But some one 
who knows beforehand, taking up the picture, calls your attention to the 
figure between the ti'ees ; at first you can see nothing but blank space ; 
at length your mind substitutes the background for the foreground, and 
the foreground for the background, and the blank space, between the 
ti'ees, which was background before, becomes foreground now, and the 
trees, which were foreground, become background, and you discern that 
the space between the trees is in the shape of the face and figure of a 
man — in a moment you see that it is in the likeness of Napoleon Bona- 
parte. 

b. After you have once made this substitution and discovery, you can 
never look upon the scene without beholding the well-known head and 
figure ; that which was before blank space in the background is now 
filled with an intelligent form and face, and has become foreground, while 
the trees, and ro'eks, and grass plat, and animals, and birds, have fallen 
back and become background. Thus all is changed. Behold here an 
image of the whole universe. 

c. • Men, in their blindness, look only on the finite, and say, as did 
Bonaparte's astronomer, " We have .searched the whole universe with a 
telescope, and found no God in it," when the fact is, they have looked 
only at the finite, putting it in the foreground, and calling the background 
nothing ; while all the time that background is the absolute and personal 
God, whose countenance, whose external power and Godhead, are clearly 
seen, "being understood," says the philosopher Paul, " by the things 
that are made." (It is clue to the great brain of Bonaparte to say that 
he rebuked the poor intelligence of his savans, who could see in the 
spirit of man no more than in the brute life of a horse, and in the make 
and destiny of man no power above the blind force of nature.) 

d. Take the whole finite including man, for background, and God at 
once appears, in full and bold relief, to mortal apprehension, and thus 
we have God and the absolute as a phenomenon in the universe perceived 
by our sense. Applying to this phenomenon of God the idea of God, or 
the absolute, we cognize God as we cognize man, or any other external 
and tangible object in nature. 

e. The absolute is, as the atmosphere of air, and light, and the force 



512 AUTOLOGY. 

of gravitation, combined in an all surrounding 1 and pervading element, in 
which nature, animals, and men all live, and move, and have their being. 
The earth, the sea, the sky, with all their shapes, forces, growths, lives, 
and inhabitants, appear in these elements, combined in one all surround- 
ing, and pervading, and revealing, and sustaining power. And these all 
show in some sort what these powers are. 

f. So the absolute God creates, produces, bears up, sustains all, and 
fills all things ; and of all things which the absolute produces and sus- 
tains, nothing is so significant of himself, nothing so like himself, as 
man. The true absolute is a person, having essential activity, essential in- 
telligence, essential individuality, essential self-law, essential liberty, 
essential will. This will is essential substance, producing from its own 
elements, a'nd sustaining in inherence in itself the qualities of affections 
in all their elemental forms, as desirefulness, trustfulness, hopefulness, 
cheerfulness, aspiringness, l'everentialness, which manifest themselves in 
determinate forms in action. • 

g. This substance also produces and holds in inherence the quality of 
intellect, with its consciousness, reason, and sense ; and also the quality 
of conscience, with its discernment of moral differences, and its enforcing 
of obligation to regard them. And thus is the whole complete, rounded 
up, and perfected in one absolute personality; a personality self-existent, 
a personality all-sufficient, absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute, self- 
sustaining, self-poised, self-mastering, and master of all, — absolute in 
freedom, absolute in affection, absolute in knowledge, absolute in ethics, 
absolute in power, — all power of will, affections, intellect, conscience, 
and of a living personal cause. 

h. This absolute personality has made man in his own image of 
will, affection, intellect, and conscience; his own image of a free, affec- 
tional, rational, and ethical personality. This is a direct image of God, 
as an artist would paint his own likeness on canvas or chisel it in mar- 
ble. Man is a miniature picture, a clay statuette of God, when we 
look upon him as an object before us. But when we look upon man as' 
an effect of a cause, then we see that he is the converse image of his 
cause, as the image on the wax is the converse image of the stamp, while 
it is the direct image of the figure stamped. 

i. It is this indirect image of God of which we here desire to speak. 
This it is which is the finite background upon which the Creator is 
shaped and becomes visible. It is the human personality which is the 
converse image and embodiment of God, and which is the background 
on which and from which the eternal power and Godhead of God are 
clearly seen, and by which they are understood and recognized ; and 
thus can, and thus does, the absolute show itself to hum$,n apprehension. 

j. In this manner the absolutely infinite and the infinitely absolute 



THE INTELLECT. 513 

is manifest to man's perception, and is seen as well as inferred ; manifest 
to sense as well as comprehended by- the reason. Is it still asked how the 
absolute, personal God is seen and manifested to human sense and con- 
sciousness ? the reply is, In precisely the same way that the human 
soul is manifested to human sense and human consciousness: • 

■ k. The human consciousness sees, feels, knows, and experiences all 
the shape, figure, feature, mechanism, structure, and working of the 
whole human personality; and in thus going round and tracing the 
lineaments of humanity as the background, it is tracing the lineaments 
of God, the absolute personality, which is thus limned and stands out in 
the foreground. 

I. Then by the same consciousness, reason, and sense (by which we 
know ourselves, as will, affections, intellect, 'and conscience, — as a free, 
self-conscious, rational, affectional, and ethical personalit} 7 , — as a begun 
.and finite personality, — and demonstrate ourselves as such) : — by that 
same means, and with that same certainty of consciousness, reason, and 
experiment of the sense, we know and cognize God — the absolute per- 
sonality, which caused, created, produced, and ever sustains this human 
personality. The human personality is thus the converse image or the 
background of the absolute personality who created it, while it is the 
direct image of itself, when the absolute is put for the background. 

m. And when the consciousness feels along, the lineaments of the 
human personality in all its faculties, it "feels," also, "after" God, 
and finds him in distinguishing and cognizing humanity, as a picture is 
known only by separating it from its background, and a background 
only by separating it from the picture ; and a stamped figure is known 
only by separating it from its mould or stamp ; each, in both cases, being 
the converse of the other. 

n. Thus " is God " (as Paul says in his noble and philosophic, as 
well as evangelical and inspired, speech at Mars' Hill) "not far from 
every one of us ; " and so in point is the speech of the apostle that it 
may here be transcribed at length. He says, " Yc men of Athens, I 
perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious [i. e., you put the 
image of man in the foreground, and call him God ; and not being satisfied 
with any image you have made, you erect an altar to the unknown God]. 
"For as I passed by and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with 
this inscription, ' To the unknown God.' Whom, therefore, ye ignorantly 
worship, him declare I unto you. God, that made the world and all 
things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not 
in temples made with hands, neither is worshipped with men's hands, as 
though he needed anything, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and 
all things; and hath made of one blood all nations of men, for to dwell on 
all the face of the earth ; and hath determined the times before appointed, 
65 



514 . AUTOLOGY. 

and the bounds of their habitation ; that they should seek the Lord, if 
haply they might feel after him, and find him, though he be not far from 
every one of us : for in him we live, and move, and have our being ; as 
certain also of your own poets have said, ' For we are also his off- 
spring.' Forasmuch, then, as we are the offspring of God, we ought not 
to think that the Godhead is like unto gold, or silver, or stone, graven 
by art and man's device." That is, thfiy placed man in the foreground, 
and God in the background, and hence "worshipped and served the creat- 
ure more than the Creator, who is blessed forever." 

0. Now, here it is proved that men, if they should seek after God, 
and feel after him, might find him ; for he is not far from every one of us, 
and if we know humanity aright, we thereby know God. The celebrated 
motto of the Grecian sage, "Know thyself," means more, perhaps, than 
even the deep significance which he gave it ; for while to know one's 
self is the greatest wisdom, that wisdom is enhanced when we. consider 
that thereby we know God also, for to know ourselves is to know ,God ; 
to know the human personality is to know the divine and absolute per- 
sonality, for each is the counterpart of the other. God throws up 
humanity and nature, and time and space, all causes and all effects, and 
all modes of being, from the centre of his own eternal and absolute, self- 
existent and all-creative, all-knowing and self-active, as free, affectional, 
ethical and personal and almighty being. As. the ocean throws up its 
waves, yet itself is ever the same, so God creates and rules, yet is ever 
the same, calm, pure, eternal, absolute, though he creates and rules in 
the exercise of freedom and intelligence, equity and love. 

p. We know God as we do the ocean, by its shores and islands, and 
seas and waves t and not because we can measure its mass, or fathom 
its profound depths. 

1. a. We now come to the category of mode. Whatever may have 
matter and form, may, of course, exist, and be perceived and compre- 
hended ; and on the statement of such a thing, the reason applies to it at 
once its idea of the possible, and affirms that it is possible. 

6. To whatsoever has matter and form, the reason applies its idea, and 
affirms that it actually exists. To whatever is perceived to be insepa- 
rable from anything actually existing, the reason applies its idea of the 
necessary, and pronounces it such ; and for all these there are, of course, 
phenomenal objects. 

F. Conclusion. 

8. a. We have now gone over again the leading .categories as the 

means of cognition, and we find their work real and reliable, giving true 

and actual intelligence. The reason applies the ideas which it forms 

from the facts of consciousness to the objects of the external world, and 



THE INTELLECT. 515 

cognizes them. ' Consciousness is able alone to give to the reason com- 
plete cognition of objects; i. e., internal and subjective objects: the 
reason has, therefore, no cognizing acts to perform with regard to them, 
but only to form ideas from them as objects already known. 

b. Perception, on the contrary, only brings the reason into contact 
■with unknown objects, and the reason is obliged to cognize them by 
applying to them the ideas which it already has, and which it formed 
from the subjective facts which consciousness furnished to it. Indeed, 
it could not cognize the objects which perception brings before it with- 
out those ideas; they are its stock of knowledge with which it is quali- 
fied to cognize new and unknown objects brought before it by the 
perceptive facult}'. 

c. The difference, then, between forming an idea and cognizing an 
object may here be easily seen. The reason forms its ideas upon the 
complete knowledge of subjective facts which the consciousness affords 
it; it cognizes by applying the ideas thus acquired to the unknown 
object which the perceptive faculty brings before it. The reason with 
its ideas, and the perceptive faculty with its sense apparatus, are thus 
able to perform, with regard to the outward objects, the same act of 
cognition which the consciousness alone is able to perform in cognizing 
facts within itself. 

d. And here we see that the cognitive reason is not another faculty 
distinct from the intuitive reason, but that the reason which cognizes 
external objects is the same intuitive reason which forms ideas, and 
which, having educated and qualified itself by forming for itself ideas 
from the facts of consciousness, now coguizes external objects through 
the apparatus of the sense. 

e. It is, then, not a less, but rather a greater, certainly a better edu- 
cated faculty that cognizes external objects through the sense, than that 
which forms ideas from the facts of consciousness ; or, plainly, it is the 
same faculty in greater maturity of qualifications. 

9. a. And here it may properly be observed, with regard to this act 
of cognition, by means of noting the steps of perception, beginning in 
unity, or a unit, and continuing in plurality, and ending in a totality, 
and in thus noting, actually applying the idea of a quantity to the percep- 
tion of quantity, or of substance to substance, cause to cause, quality to 
quality, and thus cognizing them, that it has been said that it is an act of 
judgment, and that it is not the work of the reason, but of the understanding 
— a faculty distket from and inferior to the reason, whose office it is to 
go between the reason and the sense, and connect the idea of the former 
with the perception of the latter, thus giving cognition of the external 
object. 

6. But from what we have just seen there appears to be no ground 



516 AUTOLOGY. 

for such an increase of the faculties, and no work for it to do ; the 
whole act and work of cognizing- is complete without it. As, for in- 
stance, the same reason that forms the idea of a rod square, or quantity, 
must note the steps of the perceptive faculty in measuring' the rod 
square, as we have seen, or there could be no conscious unity between 
the idea and the perception. But if the reason, which forms the idea, 
notes also the steps that measure the rod square, and in measuring and 
noting the steps around the square, applies to it its idea of a square, and 
thus cognizes it as a square, then there is a perfect and conscious unity 
and identity of the action of the reason in the idea and the perception, 
and in the application of the idea to the perception in the act of cognition. 

c. This being done, there is nothing left for the understanding, as 
held by Kant, Coleridge, and others, to do ; the cognition is not only 
complete, but it is manifest that no other faculty could do this act; no 
other faculty than the reason could make this coguition of an external 
object through the sense. The reason grasps its own idea and its own 
perception, and joins them, in one conscious act, thus making cognition, 
and no other faculty could do this. 

d. The invention of the faculty of the understanding is not only un- 
necessary, but if invented, would be incompetent to the act, or any act 
of cognition ; it would disjoin, and not connect, the sense and the reason. 
The understanding, therefore, as a faculty has in reality, no use or being, 
and is neither a fact nor a want of the human mind. So much for the 
cognition of quantity. 

e. We now take up the category of quality, and find that as the 
reason cognizes the quantity of an object by an idea and a percep- 
tion united in one act, so also it cognizes the quality of an object in 
like manner, and without the need of any other faculty save the sense. 
Moreover, what is true of these two categories is true also of the rest ; 
viz., those of relation and mode. We find the same unity of action be- 
tween the reason and the sense, the idea and the phenomena, and alsp 
that the reason alone is both sufficient and indispensable in order to any 
act of cognition under these categories, and that no such faculty as the 
understanding can either exist or be used with them. 

/. The cognitive faculty is now complete and capable of going out in 
quest of knowledge. Other ideas and conceptions it Will have as it 
advances in knowledge ; but with the primitive ideas of the reason formed 
from the facts of consciousness, it is fully prepared to begin to cognize 
external objects ; and thus do the categories and the sense perceptions 
give knowledge, and in this manner do the reason and the sense 
co-operate in cognizing external objects. In this way are all external 
things known. 

10. a. When, in this way,. knowledge and facts are gained, then may 



THE INTELLECT. 511 

the reason form yet more ideas and classifications, with which to cog- 
nize more minutely, and more fully, objects that may be brought before 
it ; that is, it may form conceptions of individual things, and then, by 
classifying them, form ideas of the genus, or a more. general conception 
of these things. We may have a conception of species and an idea, or 
more comprehensive conception of a genus. 

b. We here conclude this survey of the operations of the reason in 
cognizing external objects. This is the great act of knowing or inter- 
preting the unknown by the known. The ideas of the reason are the 
language of the soul, the mother tongue of the soul. With these it is 
prepared to know all things, and to translate all things into its own 
language. 

c. The categories are the soul's dictionary ; in them it finds the nature 
and meaning of all things, and it cognizes all things in the first instance 
by translating them into this language. The reason is first the great 
Dictionary-maker, and then the great Interpreter of all external things ; 
— it makes its dictionary from the facts of consciousness, and then with 
it interprets the facts of sense. Having found that believing was the first, 
perception the second, and cognition the third operation of the reason in 
knowing external things, we now come to the fourth ; viz., conceiving. 

SECT. IV. THE REASON CONCEIVES. 

a. The next operation of the reason, after cognizing, is that of con- 
ceiving. An idea is formed from a faot of consciousness before there 
can be a cognition, as we have already seen. There must, on the con- 
trary, always be the cognition of an external object before there can be 
a conception of that object. 

b. What is a conception of an object? A conception of a thing is a 
grouping in the mind of the identifying characteristics of that individual 
thing. It is, consequently, always particular, peculiar, and singular. 
It is always formed from a particular thing, after that particular thing 
has been cognized by due process of cognition. 

c. But has the mind no' conception formed from the original facts 
of consciousness ? To this it is replied, that the reason forms ideas 
from the facts of consciousness, but does not form conceptions from 
them ; not because it cannot, but because it is not necessary. Concep- 
tions are useful only when the facts of which they are the conception 
are absent ; but the facts of consciousness are always present ; therefore 
conceptions of them are unnecessary. A present fact always supersedes 
the conception of that fact, and always subserves all the purposes and 
uses in cognizing and remembering which the conception could subserve. 

d. A present fact is both a conception and a fact, and, as such, is, to 



518 AUTOLOGY. 

the extent of its nature and scope, a means of knowing and remember- 
ing-, just as an idea and a conception are. There are, then, no concep- 
tions of the original facts of consciousness, because they are not needed. 
Why use the light of a candle when the sun shines ? Why use the con- 
ception of a fact when you have the fact itsolf ? 

e. Yet the reason could, of course, if necessary, form conceptions of 
the first facts of consciousness ; but these original facts of conscious- 
ness are particular facts, and, as such, would, of course, give particular 
conceptions ; but as particular conceptions are not capable of cognizing 
all things, the reason rises above them, and forms from the facts of con- 
sciousness universal and necessary ideas, with which we cognize what- 
ever is bi'ought before us, to the extent of their universal and necessary 
properties. 

f. The peculiar, and particular, and specific, and original facts of con- 
sciousness are all useful, and may be used in cognizing other specific 
and particular things, so far as they are applicable. But to the great 
world of things they are not applicable, and the universal and neces- 
sary ideas have to be employed to bring the objects into cognition, 
where they ma}' become themselves the objects of close examination, so 
that the reason may form from them specific conceptions. Of every 
object cognized, therefore, a specific conception is formed ; that concep- 
tion is formed in the act of a completed cognition, and is passed into 
the consciousness, which holds it as it holds the primary fact upon 
which the original idea with which it was cognized was formed. 

g. This specific and peculiar conception of a particular thing holds the 
same and as inseparable a connection with the original fact of conscious- 
ness as does the original idea formed from it ; and thus it becomes a 
fact in the mind's furniture, just as original ideas and facts are, and is 
held in the same living consciousness. 

h. When, by the sense, the reason perceives an external object, and 
is thus made aware of its presence, then by applying an idea to it, and 
interpreting and translating it by an idea, it cognizes that object. 

i. By means of this act of cognizing an object, and simultaneously 
with it, goes on the operation of forming a conception of it. And as the 
reason applies, on one hand, its original idea to the fact of the senses, in 
order to cognize it, so it applies at the same time, on the other hand, the 
new conception of the external object thus formed to the original fact 
of consciousness from which the idea was formed ; and this it does in 
order to identify and prove the correctness of its application of the idea 
to the external fact. If the idea moulded from the fact of consciousness 
so contains the new fact of objective experience to which it is applied 
as clearly to cognize it, then, certainly, the conception formed by the 
reason of this fact ought to receive, and intelligently contain, the 



THE INTELLECT. 619 

original fact of consciousness from which the idea was formed ; and if it 
does, then is the cognition found to be perfect. The conception will 
of course have its superadded peculiarities. 

j. Indeed, no cognition is complete until this full work is done ; vie., 
that of applying an original idea of the reason, formed from the facts of 
consciousness, to the fact of the senses; and then that of re-applying 
the conception of the new fact thus cognized to the original fact of con- 
sciousness,, where all the knowing began in the first instance. ■ 

k. The conception of an external thing is, of course, more explicit 
and particular than the original idea by which the fact was cognized, 
and less so than the fact itself; yet it applies directly to the original 
fact of consciousness, and becomes its own conception. Indeed, we 
find that in the cognition of new facts, and in forming conceptions 
from them; the original facts and ideas grow'and transform themselves 
into the new ones, so that the conception of the particular fact comes to 
be the conception of the corresponding original fact of consciousness, 
and so is held by the consciousness in the mind in the same way that 
original facts and ideas are ; and thus conceptions increase as knowl- 
edge increases, and multiply forever, as the objects of knowledge mul- 
tiply, and all are held as they are first formed by the same. original fac- 
ulties of reason and consciousness, and precisely as the first facts, and 
first conceptions, and the first ideas of the mind are held, in the living 
reason and the living consciousness. 

I. Thus the reason, after being qualified with ideas and the instru- 
ments of the sense, first believes, then perceives, then cognizes, then 
conceives external objects. At the first it had consciousness of primary 
facts, then the reason formed from these facts universal and necessary 
ideas, then it was armed with instruments of sense. Then, being thus 
qualified and equipped, it first believed, then perceived, then cognized, 
and then (as we have just seen in this chapter) it conceived or formed 
conceptions of the objects thus perceived and cognized, and passed 
those conceptions over to the original facts and ideas of consciousness, 
to be held by them forever in the consciousness. 

m. Thus we see that the primary facts of consciousness are the first 
springs of all our knowledge, and not only the basis of all our original 
ideas which are universal and necessary, but also that they are the tests 
of conceptions, and constitute a kind of nature's system of. mnemonics 
for reclaiming them.. They are the things known already in the mind, 
and are ever kept fresh in cognition by the necessary activity of the 
consciousness and the reason. 

n. Why we never forget a primary fact is because that fact is the 
mind itself, and hence is ever in the consciousness, and cannot die out 
of it, only as the mind itself dies. Just so with our original ideas 



520 AUTOLOGY. 

formed from these facts by the reason ; they are always necessarily in 
the consciousness, as the necessary affirmations of the reason ; and 
just so are the conceptions which Ave form of external objects in the act 
of' cognizing them the necessary affirmations of the 'reason, in relation 
both to the objects themselves and also in relation to the original facts 
of consciousness; and thus they are also held by the consciousness in 
perpetual knowledge, even as are the original facts and ideas, of them- 
selves. 

o. Now we cognize the unknown by the known ; that is, by applying 
the known facts, conceptions, and ideas of consciousness and the reason, 
to the objects of sense : so also we remember by applying the known con- 
ceptions of external objects, which we have already found and laid up 
in the consciousness, to the facts and the objects of a former cogni- 
tion. The things which we know, which we cannot forget, are the 
means of knowing the things which are new, and also those which have 
passed out of mind. The things already known with which we recall 
and remember, are those facts, cognitions, and conceptions of objects, 
and of our having known them before, which have been already ac- 
quired, and passed into the living consciousness, with those primary 
facts and original ideas which are given and formed by the conscious- 
ness and reason, and held perpetually in the consciousness as a part of 
its own being and life. 

p. With these acquired conceptions of external objects, and of, the 
fact that we have seen them before, joined by the consciousness to 
its own original facts and ideas, we remember or re-cognize ; that is, 
cognize pver again what we have cognized before : this is remembering 
both in its generic and in its specific sense. (See next section.) More- 
over, by forming conceptions thus of external objects, which are cog- 
nized by the combined operation of reason and sense, we add to our 
stock of conceptions for cognizing other objects, that is, homogeneous 
objects, though such as differ from those from which the conceptions are 
formed. 

q. And still further, as cognitions multiply, conceptions seem to be- 
gin to approach ideas ; that is, we pass from the conceptions of mere 
individual things as species, to that of genus, order, and class. And 
as a conception of an individual thing is a grouping of its characteris- 
tics, so a conception of a class, genus, or order, is a grouping together 
of those fewer characteristics which as a class, genus, or order, they 
hold in common, and which distinguish them as such. 

r. Now, these conceptions also a*c passed into the mind, and become, 
in turn, the means of cognizing external objects ; and thus the power of 
the mind is ever increasing. By increasing its number and variety of 
conceptions, the mind is ever increasing its ability to cognize more and 



THE INTELLECT. 521 

more. And thus it may go on increasing in conception, and in oppor- 
tunities to know, forever. The original facts and ideas of the mind are 
the original cognitive and mnemonical powers, by which new conceptions 
are both acquired and retained, and are at once the capability of both 
knowing and remembering. 

SECT. V. THE REASON REMEMBERS. 

A. What is remembering f 

a. Remembering is retaining and recalling our past knowledge. 
How do we retain, and how do we recall, past knowledge ? Precisely 
as we obtained it at the first ; viz., by bringing together a conception of 
it and a phenomenon of it. This question, however, can be best an- 
swered and more fully explained by recurring to our method of acquir- 
ing knowledge at the first. > 

b. Our knowledge begins in consciousness. First, we are conscious 
of the primary facts of our being. Secondly, that consciousness of 
these facts becomes equivalent to a conception of them by reason of its 
own simple continuance. Thirdly, the reason forms necessary and uni- 
versal ideas from the then primary facts of consciousness. Fourthly, 

'the mind takes on body and the sense, consisting of physical resistance 
and the five senses. Now, with this apparatus of the sense, and with 
these original ideas of the reason, and the facts and conceptions of con- 
sciousness, the mind is prepared to cognize external objects. An object 
is brought before the mind by perception through the senses ; the reason 
applies to it an idea, anc\ thereby translates and interprets it, and thus 
it is cognized. In this way the mind acquires knowledge. 

o. Then it advances and enlarges that knowledge by forming concep- 
tions of external objects, and with them cognizes or re-cognizes the ob- 
jects from which they are formed not only, but also all kindred and 
homogeneous objects; and thus it is fully prepared to go "on in this way, 
adding to its cognitions and its conceptions forever and ever; — this 
is acquiring knowledge. 

d. What, then, is retaining, and what is recalling knowledge ? If 
this is knowing, what is remembering? The reply is, that, if acquiring 
knowledge consists in cognizing the phenomena of the sense by the 
idea of the reason, and then in forming conceptions of other phenomena, 
and cognizing other facts with them, then, clearly, remembering consists 
in retaining the conceptions, and in recalling the cognitions thus made. 

e. The questions, then, will be, first, Is retaining conceptions an act 
of memory, or simply an effort of consciousness ? and secondly, Is the 
recalling of a past cognition an act of remembering, or of simple cogni- 
tion ? In seeking the answers to these inquiries, and in ascertaining 



522 AUTOLOGY. 

what remembering is, we shall, first, examine more fully the act of re- 
membering iti relation to, and in comparison with, the act of cognition. 
Secondly, we shall show how we remember ; that is, what are the marks, 
signs, symbols, embodiments, or phenomena of a former act of knowing, 
and how such embodiment, sign, mark, or phenomena, of a former act 
of knowing, are cognized by the conceptions of such act of knowing, 
already formed and retained in the mind. Thirdly, we shall show how 
conceptions of external objects are retained in the mind. 

f. And from all this it will appear, that, so far as remembering con- 
sists of retaining conceptions in the mind, it is identical with cons 'ious- 
ness ; and that, so far as remembering consists in recalling a past ( bject 
or act of knowing, it is identical with simple cognition, and thus that 
we remember by the same faculties, and in the same way, that we know 
at all. 

B. The relation of remembering to cognizing. 

a. What is remembering ? Historically, it is this : a perception 
comes before the mind, and the reason, in noting it, applies to it its own 
idea, and thus cognizes it. The reason here uses one of the primary 
ideas, which is formed from some of the primary facts of consciousness, 
in cognizing this object. This is simple cognition. But remembering 
is something more than this act of simple cognition ; it is cognizing an 
object by our primary ideas, and by the conception which we formed of. 
the object when we cognized it, and still again by our conception of the 
fact that we have before cognized it. 

b. Now, this kind and this extent of cognizing is remembering ; and 
it will be seen that remembering is only an enlarged cognition, only 
knowing more about an object than we knew by the first act of cognition. 
We here see that without these acquired conceptions with which to re- 
cognize both the objects from which they are formed, and other 
homogeneous objects, and without these conceptions of past acts of 
knowledge, that is, of having cognized the object before, with which to 
cognize the phenomena of the objects, or the mark or sign of the fact 
of our having cognized the object before, no recognition could be 
made ; i. e., there could be no remembering, and no progress in knowl- 
edge could be reached beyond the very first and simplest knowledge of 
things. 

c. The primary facts and conceptions of consciousness, and the pri- 
mary ideas of the reason formed from the facts of consciousness, help 
us to cognize, in the first instance ; but it is our acquired conceptions of 
external objects, that is, the conceptions which we form of objects cog- 
nized through the sense both of the object itself, and of the fact that 
we have known it, by which our knowledge is extended beyond these 



TIIE INTELLECT. 523 

limits ; and a man is intelligent, learned, and competent, just in propor- 
tion as lie has his mind furnished with these acquired conceptions, with 
which to recall, comprehend, and interpret whatever is brought before it 
as an object of knowledge. 

d. For instance, I may cognize the perception of an object under the 
•idea of quantity, of quality, of relation, or of mode ; but with these bare 

and primary ideas I should not know much about it. But let me add to 
my capability of knowing it, my acquired conception of what the quan- 
tity is, as wood or stone ; what its qualities are, as roundness, square- 
ness, hardness, softness, redness, &c. ; what its relation is, as planned 
and built by some architect; what its mode of being is, as possible, 
actual, or necessary ; and as to time, that it was built three centuries 
ago; and as to space, that it stands in ancient Rome, and that I have 
seen it there, — and it will appear that I have vastly more conceptions 
with which to cognize or interpret the thing which I perceive than the 
original and simple facts, conceptions, and ideas of the consciousness 
and reason gave me. 

e. Now, this is remembering, in contradistinction from cognition. 
While cognition is knowing simply to the extent of our primary facts, 
conceptions, and ideas, remembering is knowing, or cognizing, to the ex- 
tent of our primary facts, conceptions, and ideas, and also to the extent 
of all our acquired conceptions or knowledge, both of the object and 
of the fact of our having seen or known it. Indeed, we could not cog- 
nize at all, beyond our primary idea, without the aid of our acquired 
conceptions, or knowledge, both of the object and of the fact of our 
having known it before. We must. have the knowledge of our acquired 
conceptions in order to know, just as in the case of translating a word 
from one language into another, we must know or remember our own 
tongue before we can render another into it, or cognize it. 

f. And hence we see how nearly knowing and remembering are allied, 
if indeed they are not identical, as we believe they are ; for knowing a 
thing is simply knowing it, and remembering is simply knowing that we 
knew it. We cease to wonder that Plato called primary ideas memories; 
for remembering is simply knowing, or cognizing, only that it is a little 
more extended knowing than when we employ only the primary ideas in 
cognition : rather it is cognizing by an acquired conception of the ob- 
ject, and a conception of having known the object, in addition to cog- 
nizing the object by an original idea. 

g. Memory is thus, plainly, an enlarged cognition ; that is, in simply 
cognizing an object, at the first I cognize nothing but the object, and 
that only so far as an original and universal idea of the reason will en- 
able me to. In remembering, we cognize all this, and all which the 



524 AUTOLOGY. 

conception of the object will give, and also the fact that we have before 
cognized the object. 

h. Original ideas seemed to Plato like memories of facts which he had 
seen somewhere, but which are now absent; and they seemed thus for 
the good reason that they are ideas truly of real facts which exist some- 
where ; and because he failed to trace them to facts of consciousness' 
then actually existing in his own, and in all human minds, as he ought to 
have done, he fancied that he had seen these facts in some pre-existent 
state ; and that the original ideas, which he had in his mind, and which 
all minds have, were simply memories of those, absent facts of an 
anterior life. But this was a gratuitous and far-fetched origin to assign 
to the well-known ideas of the mind. 

i. The true origin of our ideas lies much nearer, as we have already 
shown — even in the primary facts of consciousness, the first facts of our 
being. If, indeed, there were no such facts out of which the reason 
could form its primary ideas, they must be either called innate, or crea- 
tions of the reason, or ascribed to facts which the soul has seen some- 
where, in some pre-existent state, as Plato did. We have given the 
true origin of ideas, which is neither in the creative power of the reason, 
nor in some pre-existen.t state, nor in the gift of nature, according to the 
doctrine that they are born with the mind, i. e., innate ideas, but in the 
original facts of consciousness. Yet Plato very naturally likened them 
to memories, which in so many particulars they resemble, as do all kinds 
of cognitions. We shall yet see that they are all the same act of the 
mind. 

SECT. V. THE REASON REMEMBERS. 

C. How does the reason remember? 

a. I. The reply to this question is, that the reason remembers by cog- 
nizing the phenomenal embodiment, sign, or mark of a former object and 
act of cognition ; and that it cognizes this act of a former cognition by 
means of bringing together a conception of this former act of cognition 
and the phenomena, sign, mark, or embodiment of it, and interpreting 
the latter by the former. 

b. As we never cognize without the phenomenal presence of the ob- 
ject, so do we never remember without the phenomenal presence of the 
object, or some mark, sign, embodiment, name, or characteristic of the 
object remembered ; and when the phenonfenal presence of the object is 
produced, then do we always infallibly remember the object. If, when 
a phenomenal sign of an object is presented to us, we do not remember 
the object, the reason is, that the one peculiar sign by which we had 
originally individualized the object is not presented to us ; when, how- 



TIIE INTELLECT. 525 

ever, the right phenomenal form of an object is actually presented, then 
do we always remember and identify it as the object we have known 
before. 

c. But, in answering this question more fully, we must recall the fact 
that remembering, as the retaining of a conception, is identical with 
consciousness ; so also here, remembering, as it consists in finding the 
embodiment, phenomena, sign, or mark of a former cognition, is identical 
with cognizing; and that they differ, not in nature, but only as to the 
objects with regard to which they act. Wc cognise an object, we re- 
member that we have cognized it. This cognition is effected just as any 
other cognition is ; viz., by a conception already in the mind and a sen- 
suous perception then present. The cognition in both cases consists in 
applying the conception to the perception, or translating the latter by 
the former. 

cl. The only difference between the two acts of cognition is as to the 
thing cognized. The matter of the cognition is the substance and qual- 
ities of the object ; the subject-matter of remembering is the operation 
of the mind. The former is the thing known, the latter is the fact of 
our having known it. 

e. For illustration, a box of very superior and highly finished pen- 
knives is placed before me. They all so resemble each other that they 
can be distinguished only with the greatest, difficulty. I select one, and 
agree to buy it. My attention being suddenly called away, and fearing 
I may not be able to identify the knife I have chosen at another time, 
I mark it with a small cross upon the handle, and drop it in the pack with 
the rest. I am detained by some business, so that I cannot return for 
my knife until the next week. I then look over the package, and am 
utterly unable to distinguish the knives one from another, as I feared, 
until, at last, I find the one having my mark ; then I know it. I had 
perhaps repeatedly looked them all over, observed no difference in them, 
until at length I came to my mark on the handle ; by this I knew that I 
had had that knife before, and that it was the one I selected. 

/. Now, in this instance, cognizing and remembering are very clearly 
distinguished as to their objects; yet, assuredly, they are one and the 
same in the nature of their operations. We cognize the knife by its 
mechanism, contrivance, and material ; we remember that we have cog- 
nized that knife before, by means of the mark on the handle. It is 
cognizing in both cases ; in the one we cognize the phenomena of a 
knife, in the other we cognize the mark by which we know that we 
have seen that knife before. Now, this mark, as a mark, is simply a 
subject of cognition ; but as a sign of my having seen it before, it is a 
subject of memory. 

g. In the one case I cognize the knife ; in the other I cognize the mark 



526 AUTOLOGY. 

which I have made upon it. The former is the phenomenon of the knife ; 
the latter is the phenomenon of my having seen it before. The knife 
has handle, blade, size, shape, color, rivets, and a groove for the blade to 
shut into ; these denote the knife; but the mental act of having cognized 
the knife before has this cross as a phenomenal mark. Just as a travel- 
ler, who climbs to the summit of some precipitous and lofty mountain 
peak and cuts liis name there in the eternal rock, that name, so cut, will 
be simply a subject of cognition to the next traveller who climbs there ; 
but to him who cut it there, it will be a subject of memory. 

h. So with the athlete, who makes successive leaps to the utmost of 
his strength, and then, stretching his whole length of arm and body, 
reaches as far as possible and makes a mark. That mark is not only a 
subject of cognition as a mark, but it is also significant of the measure 
and limit of the speed, agility, stature, and power of the athlete. It 
denotes a mental and physical act : it is the phenomenal evidence of 
that act. Now, as the phenomenon of that athletic feat* that mai'k is a 
subject of memory, and not of simple and ordinary cognition. 

i. In what, then, does remembering differ from ordinary cognition ? 
Only in this ; in cognizing, simply, we know an object; in remembering 
we cognize the mark of our having known it. The subject-matter of 
the thing remembered is the only difference ; the mental act is the same 
in. both cases; viz., an act of cognition. In the case of common cog- 
nition wo cognize the object as an object, or the act as an act ; in re- 
membering we cognize the object as the phenomenon of a former act or 
event. It is therefore obvious that more is included in remembering than 
in cognizing, because there is more to know, and we know more. 

j. Again, in ordinary cognitions we only cognize the object before us; 
in memorial cognitions we cognize also the act that produced the object 
which is before us, and which we then cognized as a memorial object. 
In the case of ordinary cognition, I cognize a knife by its well-known 
constituents. In the case of remembering the knife, I cognize not only 
the knife, as a knife, and the mark by which I remember it, as a mark, 
but I cognize that mark also as the mark of my having seen, and known 
the knife before. 

k. Thus, while in ordinary cognitions we cognize the object as an 
object, in memorial cognitions we cognize the act that produced that 
object. In ordinary cognition we cognize the effect ; viz., the mark as 
a mark simply ; in memorial cognition we cognize the cause of that 
effect; viz., the mark, not simply as a mark, but as the mark of the 
mental act of having known the knife before. 

I. The same mark is here the phenomenal embodiment of both cause 
and effect, and the case is precisely similar to what we have before 
shown in the chapter on Cognition, where it was made to appear that 



THE INTELLECT. 527 

the same phenomenon was the representation of both cause and effect 
in all cases ; as the figure made by a stamp upon soft wax was the phe- 
nomenal representation of both cause and effect equally true of both ; 
so here the mark on the knife, and that of the traveller on the mountain 
peak, and that of the athlete on the arena, are each and all marks that 
denote both cause and effect. The marks as marks are an effect ; the 
marks as mental efforts, and as denoting an act of the person, are the 
phenomena of cause, the cause that produced them. 

m. Thus what is true in one department of the mind is true in all 
departments of the mind ; the same object is a mark of cognition in 
both cases, and in both cases the act of the mind is the same ; i. e., 
simply an act of cognition. In order to the knowing of an external 
object there must be first an idea of the knowable in the mind ; then 
there must be the perception of the external object by means of the 
sense; and then the reason cognizes the object by interpreting the exter- 
nal perception by the internal idea ; and precisely the same conditions 
and the same operations are requisite in order to remembering. There 
can be no remembering without first an idea in the mind of that 
which is rememberable, and then a perception of the phenomenal rep- 
resentation, sign, or embodiment of the act or event to be remem- 
bered. As we could never know any external object if wo could not 
have first an idea, and then an external perception of the object, just so 
we could never remember anything without first having an idea of it in 
the mind, and then a phenomenal perception of it, be that thing what 
it may. 

II. An object or event is remembered only by its identifying mark. 

a. It must be observed, in any case of remembering an- object or 
event, that I remember it ordy when that part, view, or characteristic 
of it which is the identifying mark of my having seen, known, or ex- 
perienced it before, is presented to me ; and that when that identifying 
mark is presented, then I do remember that I have seen it before ; and 
this remembering that I have seen it before is but cognizing the identi- 
fying mark of- my having seen it before. 

b. This act of cognizing the identifying mark of my having seen the 
object before is precisely like my act of cognizing it at the first, and like 
any other act of cognizing, which I have ever done or can do. What did 
I do in my first act of cognizing an object ? I brought the phenomenal 
characteristics of the thing under my conception of it. What have I 
done in remembering the thing ? I have brought before my mind, and 
under my idea and conception, both the phenomenal characteristics of 
the thing as an object, and also that peculiar characteristic of the thing 
which was to my mind the identifying mark of my having before seen 



528 AUTOLOGY. 

it, and cognized it, i. e., by the conception of the identifying mark of 
my having seen it, I now re-cognize it, just as at the first I cognized 
the object as an object under its idea or conception. 

c. And thus it appears that all the difference between the act of 
knowing, or cognizing at the first, and my remembering, or cognizing, 
the second time, is this ; viz., in the second case, or that of remembering, 
I not only cognize a different thing, but I cognize more, and know more, 
than in the first. In the first instance I cognize only the object; in 
the second I cognize the object and also the identifying mark of my hav- 
ing cognized the object before ; and in both cases it is simply bringing 
a phenomenon of the senses under an idea or conception of it already in 
the mind, and in both cases cognizing that of which it is the identifying 
mark ; for the identifying mark of my having seen an object or event is 
phenomenal, and not merely mental, relational, or supersensual. Thus 
are cognizing and remembering the same. 

d. Now, what is this identifying mark of my having seen or known 
an object, or of my having experienced an event before? It is some- 
times'the shape of the thing, sometimes the place, sometimes the time, 
sometimes the circumstances of the thing, sometimes a mark that I put 
upon it. For instance, I see the picture of a face. I remark that I have 
seen it before. In this case the features, or some peculiarity in them, is 
the identifying mark that I have seen it before. But suppose I do not 
recognize it at all until some one tells me where I saw the person, or 
when ; I then remember the face as given' in the picture. In this case 
the where or the when is the identifying mark of my having seen the 
person. But suppose these do not enable me to recall it; then some 
one tells me that I saw the said person at such a time and place, and in 
company with such a third person : then I remember it and the picture. 
Now, this circumstance of the third person is the identif\ T ing mark of 
my having before seen the party whose picture is before me. 

. e. By this identifying mark is meant that which is the characteristic 
of the person and his surroundings which my mind took, in the first 
instance, as the embodiment and phenomena of the fact that I had seen 
him, and, consequently, when that characteristic is brought before me 
again, I remember him ; i. e., I cognize it as the sensuous embodiment 
of my having seen and known the person before. 

f. Furthermore, let it be considered that all things are known to us 
as in time and space, and as having quality, quantity, relation, and mode, 
and either of these things may become the embodiment, or identifying 
mark, or phenomenal representation of my having seen or known the 
object before ; and that embodiment will be a particular thing under 
some one of these general heads or categories, just as my cognizing it 
at the first was bringing a particular thing under a general head. 



TIIE INTELLECT. 529 

1st Illustration, a. A forester or a hunter, going through a thick and 
trackless wood, will blaze trees with an axe (that is, chip off a piece 
of them), or will break small limbs or sprigs of trees with his hand as 
he goes along, in order that he may find his way back. These cuts on 
the trees and these broken twigs are to him the embodiments and the 
identifying marks of his having been there before ; and by them he 
remembers that he has been there before, and knows or remembers the 
way back out of the woods, when otherwise he could not find his way 
out. 

b. This is a perfect illustration of what the mind does in remember- 
ing, in every case. It simply cognizes the identifying mark or embodi- 
ment of a past experience or knowledge, of a past cognition of the 
object ; and this is precisely like any other act of cognizing or know 
ing. It is bringing a phenomenon under a conception, and cognizing 
or translating it by that conception. The broken limb is the identifying 
mark that I have been there before ; by it I know that I have been 

• there before ; without it I should not know that I had been there before. 

c. So that particular thing in time, place, form, quantity, quality, 
relation, or mode, by which I remember an object, is the identifying 
mark of my having seen "it before, and of my past experience with re- 
gard to it ; and by it I cognize or remember it. We remember precisely 
as we cognize at the first; viz., the object is brought before us by the 
senses. 

2d Illustration, a. We cognize an object — for instance, a horse ; we 
apply our conception of a horse to the phenomenal presence of a horse, 
and thus cognize it as a horse. After ten years the same horse is 
brought before us again, and we know not at first that we have ever seen 
it before. We have forgotten, as we say. But the person who shows 
us the horse points us to the fact, which we had not as yet noted, that 
the horse has a certain mark of a pigeon in the color of his hair on the 
flank, or a curious indentation .on the nose, or has naturally but three 
legs ; -at once I remember the horse, and that I have seen him before. 
Or if the horse has no such distinguishing mark, then it may be some 
circumstance of time, place, or event ; as, my birthday, the fourth of 
July, or election day, or the battle of Bunker Hill, on which I first saw 
the horse ; or some particular locality, as the sea-shore, the Alps, Niagara 
Falls, at which I first saw the horse, which will be the identifying mark 
of my having seen him, and by which, as we say, I remember him. 

b. But what, in fact, is done by bringing up these items of form, color, 
time, place, &c. ? Why, it is bringing up the phenomenal form of a past 
act of knowledge ; that is, it is bringing up that phenomenon of the 
horse by which I originally cognized him as a distinct individual horse. 
It is not awaking anything inside of my mind ; I did not remember 
67 



530 AUTOLOGY. 

it, only because the thing which I had seen was not fully before my 
senses, and we never remember, as we never cognize, without the pres- 
ence of the phenomenal object; i. e., that which to us stands for it. 

c. Hence cognizing and remembering are precisely the same kind 
of mental act. I may remember the characteristics of the horse by the 
place or time, or both ; or I may remember the time or place, or both, 
by the characteristics; the one controlling' thing to me is, what 
was that which I, in my own mind's apprehension, took for the individ- 
ualizing and identifying characteristics of the horse : it may have been 
one thing, it may have been another, as above ; but whatever it was, I 
can remember the horse only when that characteristic is presented to 
my mind. 

d. And now be it observed, it is no part of memory to bring up 
these characteristics by which the horse', is recognized or remembered ; 
that is the work of some person, or event, or operation, outside of the 
act of remembering ; just as, at the first, an object must be brought to us 
before the mind can cognize it, just so the same object must be brought 
to the mind again, and that, too, in those characteristics by which it was 
first grasped or cognized by the mind, and was then individualized by it, 
before it can be remembered : and then it can be remembered by these 
same characteristics, and identified as the object which was at the first 
seen and known. 

e. And here be it again observed, that the operation by which the 
mind remembers and identifies, in this last instance, is precisely the same 
as that by which it was at the first cognized and individualized. The 
bringing of the object before the mind in order to the mind's knowing it 
at the first, and the bringing of it before the mind in order to be remem- 
bered in the second, are the same known facts ; as in the first instance, 
it is not knowing, so, in the second, it is not remembering. 

/. It must be distinctly observed and particularly insisted upon that 
the thing to be remembered cannot at all be said to be present to the 
mind, and is not, in fact, before the mind until that especial character- 
istic of it by which the mind at first individualized it, and by which in 
remembering it identifies it, is placed before it ; and that the moment 
that that characteristic is before it, that moment it does remember it ; 
and it remembers it by cognizing that characteristic in precisely the 
same way in which it cognizes anything else. 

g. If I remember only the indentation, or notch, on a horse's nose, 
and not the time or place when or where I saw it, then that was the only 
thing by which at first I individualized the horse, and is now the only 
thing by which I identify him. It was the only thing by which I cog- 
nized the horse in the first instance, and it is now, consequently, the only 
thing by which I remember or recognize him. If it was the time or 



THE INTELLECT. 531 

pfe.ce by which I at first individualized the horse, then these will be the 
only things by which afterwards I can recognize or remember him ; for 
certainly I cannot remember what I have not before known. 

3d Illustration, a. For further illustration, take a poem. How do I 
remember a poem ? What is that phenomenal thing which I perceive by 
my senses, and by interpreting which by an idea already in the mind, I 
remember a poem, say " Childe Harold," "The Giaour," "Paradise 
Lost," or " Rape of the Lock." I reply that these very names them- 
selves are the phenomena which, by anterior ideas and conceptions of 
these poems, my mind translates into a remembrance of them. By this 
means I remember first that such poems exist; that is, that I have seen, 
read, or heard of them ; and, secondly, remember and repeat, if I have 
ever known the lines and sentiments of these poems. I am asked, " Do 
you know anything of ' Childe Harold ' ? " That name is the phenome- 
non to me, not only of the poem as a whole, and that I have seen and 
read it, and heard of it, but also of that which I know most and best 
about it; that I have not only cognized it, but have committed it to 
memory, and I repeat it as now from memory I write it. 

" O that the desert were my dwelling-place, 
With one fair spirit for my minister, 
That I might all forget the human race, 
And, hating no one, love but only her." 

b. Or take the "Declaration «of Independence." How do I remem- 
ber it ? By the same means ; the name in my ear is the phenomenal rep- 
resentation of it, and I at once apply my conception of it to this name and 
remember it, and repeat, " When, in the course of human events, it be- 
comes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds which 
have connected them with another." 

c. But what is this being able to repeat poems or essays, or composi- 
tions of any kind ? Is it a peculiar sort of memory, or not different from 
being able to point out and identify any man whom we have seen before ? 
I have seen John Quincy Adams. I not only remember the fact, but I 
can describe his person, features, stature, and build. I can also give 
his mental pecularities, his literary style, and his presence, and his man- 
ner. Now, this is simply knowing him by heart, and repeating him as I 
would an essay or poem. 

Uh Illustration, a. The city of Venice is mentioned : the audible 
phenomenon of the name is immediately translated by my reason, by 
means of its idea of a city, and its conception of Venice as a particular 
city, and' I remember it. Furthermore, I draw a map of it, give the 
surrounding sea, the Grand Canal, the Rialto, the Church de Salute, the 
Ducal Palace, the two pillars, with the winged lion on the one and the 
statue of St. Theodore on the other, the Cathedral of St. Mark's, the 



532 AUTOLOGY. 

Campanile, the public square, the distant hills, &c., &c. Thus I repeat 
Venice as I would a poem ; and these instances show that the mode of 
memory is the same ; that the difference between remembering that 
there is such a place as Venice, and that I have seen it, and remember- 
ing that there is such a poem as Childe Harold, and that I have read it, 
and in being able to draw a plan of the former, and repeat more or less 
of the latter, is only that of degree, and not at all of kind ; in both 
cases it is precisely the same in nature as cognition, differing only in 
this, that cognition is of the object itself in the first instance, while re- 
membering is both of the object and of the fact of my having before 
cognized it. 

b. In cognizing, I have the object before me or some phenomenal 
representation of it, as 'the name or a picture; but in both cases the 
operation of the mind is the same. In cognizing I translate a phenom- 
enal perception of an object into a cognition of it by means of an idea 
of it. In like manner I translate the phenomenal perception of the fact 
that I have seen an object before, into aremembrance of it. 

c. Still it is asked, " How do I, when I remember the first line of a 
poem, thereby remember the second?" The reply is, that the first 
word or line is the phenomenal representation of the thought and posi- 
tion of the second. When the first line in Byron's Hymn to the Ocean 
is heard, it will always, to him who has learned it, be the phenomenal 
representation of the thought and position of the second, thus : " Roll on, 
thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll." This line is the phenomenal sign 
or mark of the next one ; viz., " Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in 
vain," and so on. 

d. It is asked, " Why, then, does not this line appear to him who 
reads it for the first time, or but carelessly many times, as the represen- 
tation of the next line also ? " The reply is, For the same reason that 
the words of this same first line would represent nothing at all to a Ger- 
man who knew not a word of English, or would represent very little to 
him who knew only one or two of the words, and guessed at the rest. 
In both cases the German would cognize all that he had the means of 
cognizing, or translating, which is the same thing. And just so with 
that other name for cognition ; viz., remembering. 

e. The man who had read three or four lines but carelessly would 
cognize or remember nothing beyond the line itself when he read it. The 
man who had read it repeatedly and with attention would cognize, or 
remember, on seeing or hearing the first line, much of the subject-mat- 
ter of the subsequent lines, while he who had thoroughly cognized these 
lines by oft-repeated and attentive reading, so that he could repeat them 
without the book, would on seeing this first line, or perhaps any other line 
of the poem, cognize (that is, remember) the whole poem by this line. 



THE INTELLECT. 533 

Such a line would be to him the phenomenal embodiment of the whole 
poem, by which, and to which, applyiug his idea of the rest, he would 
repeat or cognize the whole of it. 

f. Still more clearly do we identify and remember poetry by the- flow 
of the rhythm, the ring of the rhyme, the harmony of the- numbers, or the 
significance of the sentiment, as in the contrast of the Fop and the 
Sage in the poem on Solitude. 

The Fop. 

" Plumed conceit himself surveying, 
Folly with her shadow playing, 
Purse-proud, elbowing insolence, 
Bloated empiric, puffed pretence, 
Noise that through a trumpet speaks, 
Laughter in loud peals that breaks, 
Intrusion of a fopling's face, 
Ignorant of time and place." 

The Sage. 

" Sage reflection, bent with years, 
Conscious virtue, void of fears, 
Muffled silence, wood-nymph shy, 
Meditation's piercing eye, 
Halcyon peace, on moss reclined, 
Retrospect, that scans the mind, 
Rapt, earth-gazing reverie, 
Blushing, artless modesty." 

TIere the quaintness of the style, the unexpectedness of the rhymes, the 
contrast of the characters, and the melancholic temperament and tone of 
the whole poem, all combine as the peculiar and identifying marks by 
which it is remembered. 

• III. The relation between the identifying mark and the act of memory, 
a. Will it still be insisted that the act of remembering consists in 
connecting the phenomenal mark of a former act of cognition with that 
act, so that it shall stand for that act of cognition, and that the whole 
mystery of memory lies in this subtile relation between the identifying 
mark and the act of the mind which it denotes ? We reply, that this 
relation between the identifying mark of a mental act and that act, is 
the same precisely as the relation between the phenomenal representa- 
tion of any thing and the cognition of that thing. Cognition consists in 
cognizing the relation between the phenomenal representation or sensu- 
ous appearance of an object, and the real and valid existence of that ob- 
ject, and memory is the same. 

ft. I remember that a scratch on a rock in the ledge of the shore means 
that I swam there. I scratched it there at the first, and cognized it then 



534 AUTOLOGY. 

as a then present act at the time of scratching, signifying that I had 
just then swum to that shore. The connection between the mark and 
the intent is the same in both cases. Moreover, this connection is the 
same as the connection between the handle, blade, color, shape, mate- 
rial, &c, of the knife, and the idea of a knife already in the mind, with 
which I cognized it as a knife at first. 

c. As this pen in my hand traces the word conceived in my mind on 
this paper, so do all and any phenomenal representations answer to the 
thought of them in the mind. Especially so does the cross on the knife 
represent the fact of my having seen and chosen the knife before ; it is 
both a language and a sign. The connection is precisely the same as 
that between any phenomenon and its idea, or between sense and rea- 
son, or the perception of the sense and the cognitions of the reason, at 
any time, and with regard to any thing or any object. 

d. It is therefore clear that the only difference between remem- 
bering and cognizing, lies, not in the nature of the act, but in the 
things which are to be known and remembered. In the case of the for- 
ester who marks his way through the woods by breaking twigs or mark- 
ing the trees as he goes, these broken twigs and these cuts on the trees 
are the signs to him of his having been there before, and that that is 
the way out of the woods ; to another traveller they would be only the 
sign that that course along which he found them would lead him safely 
through the wood. 

e. Now, the same phenomena here serve two purposes : to the man 
who made them they are the phenomena by which he remembers ; to 
the man who only follows him, they are the phenomena by whieh he 
knows that somebody has been there before, and by which he cognizes 
the way through the wood. In both cases, however, the mental act is 
the. same. So the indentation on the horse's nose was originally one of 
the things by which the horse was individualized, that is, known. But ' 
in the case of remembering, it has become his identifying mark also. 
To the cognizer it is one thing, to the rememberer it is another thing ; 
it is also the phenomenal embodiment of -the fact that he has seen the 
horse before ; and thus, in every case, are cognizing and remembering 
identical as acts of the mind. 

IV. Wliat are the proper subjects of memory? 

a. It may be observed, first, that there are things which have no 
need- of memory. Whatsoever is a matter of consciousness proper, 
needs no memory to recall it ; for it is never out of mind. We need to 
remember only that whose phenomenal presence is gone from our mind. 
The conditions of remembering are the same as the conditions of cog- 
nizing : viz., the presence of the phenomenon of a thing to the sense, 



THE INTELLECT. 535 

and the presence of an idea of it in the reason. When by any means 
the phenomenon or sensuous appearance of an object is brought before 
me, I at once cognize it by the original idea already in my mind ; so also 
when the phenomenon of my having known anything previously is by 
any means brought before me, I at once cognize or remember that phe- 
nomenon or sensuous appearance of the fact that I have known it be- 
fore, and this is remembering. 

b. Now, it is here manifest what it is that is a subject of memory, and 
what is not. In the first place, I need not to remember primary facts of 
consciousness, nor primary ideas formed upon them ; for they are always 
present in the consciousness and the reason, and never are lost or ab- 
sent from it. They are just as constantly present in the mind as the 
consciousness and the reason are themselves present in the mind. The 
mind, indeed, only exists while it is conscious that it is conscious ; so 
that to lose these primary facts and ideas would be to lose the mind 
itself. These, therefore, need no remembering ; for they are always 
present in the living mind and living consciousness, as the power of 
cognizing, remembering, and of all other acts of the mind ; nay, as the 
fact and evidence of the life and existence of the mind itself. 

c. They, then, are not the subject of memory any more than they are 
the ^subjects of cognition ; 'they are, in fact, the tools with which we 
both cognize and remember, and are not, therefore, the subject of either. 
They are things, as we have seen, already known before we begin either 
to know or remember, or perform any other act of external knowing. 
Neither are the constituents of a thing by which it is known and char- 
acterized subjects of memory, but subjects of ordinary cognition only. 
I am brought to the package of knives from which before I had selected 
and marked one. The constituents and characteristics of the knife are 
not subjects of memory, but simply of cognition. I cognize them as 
knives, I need no memory for that. But when I come to desire the 
identical knife which I had before chosen, then I need that something 
which we call memory; viz., I need to find the phenomenon or sensu- 
ous appearance of my having seen the knife before. I find that mark ; 
it is a small cross. Now, to cognize this as a mere cross is not to re- 
member ; it is simply to cognize, as at the first ; but to cognize it as the 
phenomenal appearance of my having seen and chosen that knife before, 
that is remembering. 

d. Now, as we have already shown, that cross is as legitimately the 
phenomenal appearance of my having seen the knife before, as the 
handle, blade, color, and shape are the phenomenal appearance that it 
is a knife at all ; and the connection between the cross and the fact that 
I have seen and chosen it before, for which it stands, is precisely the 
same as the connection between the appearance of the blade, handle, 



536 AUTOLOGY. 

color, and shape of the knife, which are the phenomenal appearance of 
the knife and the conception of a knife. 

e. We remember, therefore, only those things whose phenomenal 
presence is withdrawn or forgotten after we have cognized them ; and, in 
regard to these, the act of remembering is precisely the same as the act 
of cognition, the only difference consisting in the objects which are the 
subject-matter of the two acts. We cognize that whose phenomenon is 
immediately before us. We remember that whose phenomenon is or 
may be withdrawn from us ; but we remember it by being brought into 
the presence of the phenomena, not of the object, but of the fact of our 
having seen or known it before ; as in the case of the mark on the knife 
handle ; and then we remember it by cognizing this mark in precisely 
the same way that we cognize any other object brought before us for the 
first time. 

f. We never remember original facts, or original conceptions, or origi- 
nal ideas, nor even the conception of external things, which are formed 
after we have cognized them, or in the act of cognizing them, and are 
wrought into the facts of consciousness. We do not remember the object 
brought before us, or the sign as such that we have seen and known it 
previously ; both these are cognized, and not remembered. The former 
act of having seen and known the object or event presented to us, is 
distinctly cognized by bringing together the sign that we have seen it be- 
fore and the conception of that act of seeing it before ; thus we remem- 
ber it, as it is said, but really cognize it ; for it is only cognition, after all. 

g. Cognition and remembering, therefore, differ only in the subject- 
matter upon which they operate ; viz., we cognize an object, we re-cog- 
nize the object and the fact that we have cognized it before ; the first is 
common cognition, the second is that cognition which we call remem- 
bering. The former takes place when the phenomena or sensuous 
appearance of the object are before us, the latter when the phenomena or 
sensuous appearance or symbol of the fact of our having previously seen 
or known the object are before us. 

SECT. V. THE REASON REMEMBERS. 

D. How are conceptions of external things retained in the mind? 

I. Are conceptions memories ? 

a. We have already seen that remembering reaches back to the act 
of cognition by means of ideas and conceptions ; that the thing remem- 
bered reaches back to the act of cognition by means of ideas and con- 
ceptions ; that the thing remembered is not only the object, but the fact 
that we have seen it before, and that this remembering, like cognizing, 
is bringing together the phenomena of a thing and the conception of a 



THE INTELLECT. 537 

thing ; that we remember a thing 1 , therefore, by having- first a concep- 
tion of it, and a conception of the fact that we have seen it before, and 
then applying these conceptions to the phenomena of these objects or 
facts respectively. 

b. We have seen that we obtain these facts and conceptions by cog- 
nizing the object, in the first instance, by the primary ideas of the rea- 
son, and then by forming a conception of it, and by forming a concep- 
tion of the act of cognizing it as to time, place, circumstances, and that 
then, with these conceptions, we remember the object and the fact of 
our having seen it. 

c. Now, the inquiry is this: " Are not these conceptions, by which we 
remember, themselves memories to be accounted for? " And is not the 
inquiry really this : " How does the mind retain these acquired concep- 
tions of external objects, and of the fact that we have seen them before, 
with which, as it is here proposed, we are to remember these same 
things ? " 

(For answer, see Sect. IV. on Conception.) 

Here we reply, that the acquired conceptions are retained in the mind 
precisely as the primary facts of consciousness and the original ideas of 
the reason are retained in the mind. The primary ideas are formed, as 
we have seen, from the primary facts of consciousness. The acquired 
conceptions of external things are formed from the external facts of 
which they are the conceptions ; but these facts themselves could not be 
cognized but by means of, and through, a primary idea. 

d. By -means of a primary idea, the reason translates the fact of 
sense, and passes it over to the consciousness, as substantially the con- 
ception of the same original fact of which it has the possession, and from 
which the primary idea was formed ; that is, the conception of the ex- 
ternal thing is only a modification of the idea by which it is translated, 
and it is handed back to the consciousness by the reason, as a true con- 
ception of the original fact of consciousness of which it has already the 
idea ; which idea the reason has used in cognizing and translating the 
fact of the sense, from which the conception is formed. 

e. Now, in cognizing, we attain not only a knowledge of the object, but 
a knowledge of the fact that we have known it. And while the mind 
forms a conception of the object in the act of cognizing it, and then 
passes that conception over into the consciousness, to become, in a 
modified form, the conception of the original fact of consciousness, so 
also it forms a conception of its own act of cognizing ; i. e., of the fact 
that it has cognized the external object, and passes that over into 
the consciousness, as a conception, in a modified form of the original 
subjective act of the mind from which the idea was formed, and it 

C8 



538 AUTOLOGY. 

remains in the mind a fixture, permanent as the activity of the mind 
itself, and ever ready for use. 

f. In remembering, the reason takes this conception of having known 
the object before, which it finds already in the mind, and with it cognizes 
the signs and phenomena of its having known the object before, and thus 
it remembers the object, and the fact of having known it before, which is 
manifestly the same act as cognizing. 

II. The conception of the external object becomes identical with the 
original idea formed from the fact of consciousness. 

a. We .have said in a preceding chapter, that, in forming ideas, the 
reason turns a fact into an idea, and that, in cognizing facts, it turns an 
idea into a fact ; and this is strictly true. From a fact of consciousness 
the reason forms an idea. When the sense presents a fact, the reason 
turns that idea into a' fact, embodies it in a fact, and then, forming a 
conception of such a fact by combining its peculiarities with the primary 
idea, it passes that conception back to the consciousness as a concep- 
tion of the fact from which the original idea was formed, and with 
which the external object was first cognized. 

b. The conception of an external object is thus blended and identified 
with the original idea by which that object was first cognized ; indeed, 
it is made of that idea, and is a growth upon it ; so that, while the in- 
dividuality and the sameness of the conception of the external object is 
not destroyed, still it becomes identified Avith a part of that original idea. 
Thus the conception of an external thing becomes one with the original 
idea which the reason formed from the fact of consciousness ; and thus 
the conception will be retained in the living consciousness as an ever- 
abiding and life-long presence. 

c. The primary idea is based on the primary fact of consciousness, 
while the acquired conception is formed out of both the fact cognized 
and the idea by which it is cognized ; thus it holds the same relation to 
the original fact of consciousness that the original idea did, certainly so 
far as that portion of it that is formed out of the idea is concerned ; and 
hence it is retained in consciousness just as the original idea is retained 
in consciousness. But the original ideas ai*e retained in consciousness 
by the same consciousness by which the primary facts of being upon 
which they are formed are retained in consciousness. Therefore the 
remembrance of either primary facts, primary ideas, or acquired, concep- 
tions can fail only as consciousness fails, and that can fail only as the 
being of the mind itself fails. 

d. Memory, then, as it relates to retaining conceptions, is identical 
with the consciousness and the reason, and these are the being itself of 
the mind. Memory, therefore, as it respects the retaining of conceptions, 



THE INTELLECT. 539 

inheres in the self-consciousness, and is part of it, nay, is it itself. The 
reason forms its ideas from the facts of consciousness, and itself inheres 
in the consciousness, so that both it and its ideas become facts of con- 
sciousness, and are held by it as such. And precisely in the same way 
are acquired conceptions (which when done are only growths upon the 
original ideas, and identical with them) held in the consciousness per- 
petually, as in a living intelligence. 

e. The acquired conceptions of external things are growths upon 
original ideas, and are inseparable from them ; so that they are always 
embraced in 'the same consciousness, and held in connection with the 
same original facts of consciousness, and are as imperishable as con- 
sciousness or as being itself. 

III. The complete whole of a thing not necessary in order to remem- 
bering. 

a. It will be said that the original facts of consciousness are not the 
specific facts which give the specific conceptions of external objects, 
and therefore cannot be the means of retaining them in consciousness. 
The reply is, that they are more than the specific facts which give specific 
conceptions ; they are the original facts from which the original ideas 
are formed by which the specific objects are first cognized. They existed 
primarily and before specific cognitions, and before specific conceptions 
could take place, and are always in, and present with, the mind as its 
power both of cognition and remembrance. 

b. If it be further said that, as those original facts are not the specific 
facts upon which specific conceptions are formed, therefore they cannot 
be the facts with which to retain specific conceptions, the reply is, that 
conceptions are retained by other facts, subjective or external, as readily 
as by the particular ones by which they are formed. We need not a 
whole fact to be the basis or ground of recalling a conception. The pic- 
ture before me of Bonaparte looking off on the sea, from the crag of 
St. Helena, in which nothing but his back, attitude, and bearing are 
shown, and nothing of his face, gives the whole conception of him as 
fully as could the most complete view of him. Just so will the cap, 
uniform, bearing, and attitude of an old soldier at the Hotel d'lnvalides 
in Paris recall Bonaparte as promptly as his own features and figure 
would. 

c. This is the argument ; and now precisely in the same way will the 
original facts of consciousness, which we have given, and which retain in 
the mind the original ideas formed upon them, serve forever the purpose 
of holding specific conceptions in consciousness. They are the original 
facts on which are formed not only the ideas by which all that is neces- 
sary and universal in the specific objects is known, but they are the only 



540 AUTOLOGY. 

abiding and ever-present facts by which the specific ideas can be retained 
in consciousness. 

d. That they are not so completely like the .specific conceptions of 
particular things as they are like the universal and necessary ideas of 
which they are the basis, and which they retain always in a living con- 
sciousness in the mfnd, is true ; but we have already abundantly seen 
that they need not be precisely, but only in part, in some degree, like 
the specific conception, in order to awaken, or rather, in this casie, keep 
awake the conception of a particular thing. And thus again is it shown 
that remembering is precisely the same in nature as cognition. It has 
and holds its power to remember (that is, its conception of the thing to 
be remembered) in precisely the same way that it has and holds those 
original ideas by which it knows, or cognizes, in the first instance. 

e. The same consciousness that holds a primary fact, and holds upon 
it an original idea, holds also an acquired conception upon the same pri- 
mary fact. Consciousness and memory are therefore identical, so far as 
retaining conceptions is concerned, and the consciousness holds on to its 
facts, ideas, and conceptions, forever, as part of its own being ; for it is 
now settled that the mind never really forgets or loses anything which it 
once knows. And hence our acquired conceptions, especially when 
they are blended, interwoven, and identified with the original facts and 
ideas of the mind, remain forever in the grasp of the living conscious- 
ness, making up the complete and inseparable implements of the mind, 
ever ready for use and ever in waiting to be employed in comprehend- 
ing, cognizing, translating, and remembering, whatever may be brought 
before it. (See Action and Reactiou, and Perpetual Identity, Div. II., 
Chaps. I. and II. — also Soul Island.) 

f. In simply cognizing, we use only the primary ideas; but in remem- 
bering an object which has been thus cognized, we use both our primary 
ideas and our acquired conceptions ; rather, we use the conception, 
compounded of the idea and the fact cognized, and the fact of having 
known the object before by it. 

IV. Perpetual consciousness the basis of memory. 

a. Here it will be seen that all our cognizing above the consciousness 
of the facts of being partakes of the nature of remembering, as our re- 
membering partakes of the nature of cognizing; for, although the reason 
actually creates a knowledge of its own which did not exist before, 
when it comprehends the facts of consciousness, or, rather, when it 
forms or creates ideas from them, and though, when it applies them to 
perception, and thus cognizes them, it also creates new knowledge by its 
own inherent force, yet all this knowledge is held, and only held in and 
by the consciousness as a growth upon the primary facts of the con- 



THE INTELLECT. 541 

sciousness of our being which it first gives ; so that when the reason 
forms its ideas, they seem to come from somewhat that lies back of 
them, as indeed they do ; and when it cognizes external objects, the 
knowledge by which it is done comes from something already known. 
And thus our ability to cognize some unknown thing is by something 
already known, and, if known, of course remembered; i. e., held in 
consciousness. 

b. For instance, the hieroglyphics of Egypt and the cuneiform char- 
acters of Assyria were unintelligible because the human mind had no 
knowledge or key, or idea or acquired conception, by which to interpret 
them. At length such a key was found. By means of it men have now 
a knowledge of those characters and what they signify. That knowledge 
of those characters enables them to translate and ascertain, the import of 
the inscriptions which they constitute. 

c. In what, then, does remembering differ from consciousness, so far as 
retaining those conceptions, by which we remember, is concerned ? In 
nothing. In what does the mind's capability of cognizing differ from its 
capability of remembering ? Simply in this : the mind's capability to 
cognize consists of primary ideas in the first instance, and also of ac- 
quired conceptions of the objects thus known - . The mind's capability of 
remembering consists of these same things, and also the additional con- 
ception " that we have known the object before ; " and these qualifica- 
tions differ in amount, and not in quality ; and as conceptions they are 
retained in the mind, as other conceptions are, by the simple force of 
that consciousness which is conscious that it is conscious, and which 
holds the ideas of the reason forever in consciousness. The conception 
" that I have seen an object." is, therefore, like the conception of the ob- 
ject itself, identified with the original facts of consciousness and the 
original idea of the reason, and retained by the mind in the same way 
as a part of its furniture, implements, and power of knowing, and in this 
respect memory and consciousness are identical. 

V. Remembering differs from ordinary cognition as to its object, not 
as to its nature. 

a. The act of cognition which we call remembering cognizes the phe- 
nomena or embodiment of the fact of my having known the object before, 
by a conception of the fact that I knew it before ; and in this respect 
it differs from simply cognizing in the first instance. It is precisely the 
same in act as ordinary cognizing. It differs from it in the conception 
which it uses, and the fact which it cognizes, and for these reasons it is 
called remembering ; but in nature it is simply as an act, cognizing still, 
and nothing more. 

b. For instance, a rock appears before me. I cognize it as to quantity 



542 AUTOLOGY. 

and quality, and find it a huge granite bouldei' ; but some one tells me, as 
I look upon it lying on the sea-shore, that there the Pilgrims landed more 
than two hundred years ago, and that it is therefore called Plymouth 
Rock. Here I am helped to know, by primary ideas and some acquired 
conceptions, that it is a rock. I know by other acquired conceptions 
that it is Plymouth Rock. A year after, Llook upon a specimen which 
.1 have, and from its color, shape, and quality, I remember that it is a 
piece of Plymouth Rock, and that I have been there and seen it. This 
small specimen of the rock, with its color, shape, and texture, is the phe- 
nomenon, the sign, mark, and embodiment of the fact of Plymouth Rock 
itself, and of my having been there and seen Plymonth Rock. I cognize 
them by my conception of the fact of my having been there and seen it, 
and thus I remember, as we call it, that I have been at Plymouth, and 
seen the rock. 

c. This conception of having made the journey to Plymouth, and of 
having seen the rock, is of an event enclosed in time, just as the rock, is 
an object enclosed in space ; indeed, the journey is in both space and 
time, and, as both object and effect, has a cause ; and thus is the concep- 
tion of it held in the consciousness by all these primary ideas and the 
facts from which they are formed ; and thus also is this conception of 
the fact that I have seen an object before, a permanent part and fixture 
of the mind itself, just as are the original ideas and facts of conscious- 
ness. 

d. Now, the first act was cognition of the rock as a rock. The second 
was a cognition of it also as Plymouth Rock, and a remembering, only 
as the retaining of the conception was a remembering. The third was a 
cognition of the fact of my having been there and seen it ; and thus 
manifestly is remembering an object or event precisely the same mental 
act as cognizing an object, only that it cognizes another thing. In re- 
membering I cognize by all that I employ in cognizing, and also by the 
acquired conception of the thing itself and of the fact of my having seen 
it before. If, in cognizing, we bring together a conception and a per- 
ception, so do we also in remembering. In the first instance, it is a con- 
ception of the object and a perception of the phenomena of it. In the 
second, it is a conception of the fact of having cognized the object before, 
and the perception of the phenomena or sign of my having so seen it. 

e. The only difference is in the objects upon which the mind is exer- 
cised, and .not in the act of the mind. And if, in order to cognize at 
the first, I must have an idea in the mind, and then have a sensuous per- 
ception of an object brought before it, so also in remembering must 
there first be already in the mind a conception of the fact of having 
known the object before, and then some sensuous sign or phenomenon 
of that object, and of the fact that I have seen the object before ; and 



THE INTELLECT. 543 

then will it be cognized, i. e., remembered that I have known it before. 
And if it is not memory, but consciousness, that retains the original idea 
in the mind, by which it cognizes external objects in the first instance, 
so also is it not memory, but consciousness, that retains the conceptions 
of external objects in the mind, and especially the conception that I have 
seen the object before, by which I cognize the fact ; i. e., remember 
the fact that I have seen the object before. 

VI. Remembering requires a preceding knowledge of the rememberable. ' 

a. As there must be an antecedent knowledge of the knowable 
already in the mind before an external object can bo cog'nized, so must 
there be also this same knowing, both of the knowable and of the re- 
memberable, before there can be any specific act of remembering ; and 
as the original knowing of facts by the consciousness, and ideas by the 
reason, which are the conditions and power of cognizing external things, 
are not cognitions, but conditions of cognition, the indispensable pre- 
requisites of cognition, so the possession by the reason in the conscious- 
ness of conceptions of external objects, and especially the conception 
of the fact that I have -known an object before, is not remembering, but 
the condition of remembering, the prerequisite to remembering, indis- 
pensable and always in existence beforehand. 

b. The reason cognizes an object by applying an idea to a perception, 
thus translating the perception by the idea, and passes over the knowl- 
edge thus gained as a conception, into the consciousness, to be held as 
the original idea by which it was obtained was held ; viz., as a forma- 
tion upon one or more of its own original facts ; and thus it is not by 
remembering, but by consciousness, that the conception thus passed into 
it is retained. It is retained precisely as all the original facts of con- 
sciousness and all the primitive ideas of the reason are retained in the 
mind; viz., by consciousness. 

c. Consciousness remembers nothing ; for it is itself that which must 
be before any remembering can be ; then it holds its own original facts 
and the original ideas which the reason forms from those facts, and the 
conceptions of external things which the reason forms by means of its 
ideas from the facts of sense, all by the same power and as a part of itself. 
Precisely, then, as consciousness and reason give the power of know- 
ing, just so do thcj give the power of remembering ; as they furnish 
the idea for knowing, so they furnish the conceptions for remembering ; 
and as the knowledge by which they furnish the power of knowing ex- 
ternal objects is not the cognition of external objects, so the power 
which they give of remembering, external objects and events is not re- 
membering ; but both are knowings antecedent and preparatory to. cog- • 
nizing and remembering. 



544 AUTOLOGY. 

d. And, lastly, remembering, is "cognizing the fact that we have 
known an object or event," while cognizing is simply cognizing the 
object or event. The latter knows a thing, the former knows it and 
knows that we have known it before. And thus are the act of remem- 
bering and the ability to remember precisely identical with the act of 
cognizing and the ability, to cognize, and they differ only as to the sub- 
ject-matter of their cognition. 

VII. Remembering always necessarily contemplates personal expe- 
rience, while simple cognizing does not. 

a. This point may be elucidated by recurring to a former illus- 
tration ; to wit, I come to the edge of a vast forest, which is thick and 
intricate. I wish to go through it to a point beyond ; but, fearing that 
I shall lose my way, and be unable to find the point towards which I am 
aiming, I desire to make good my retreat, so that, at least, I can come 
back to the place of beginning. In order to do this, I break the twigs 
of the limbs and bushes along my way (as in a former illustration). I 
make my path thus through the woods, and by good fortune come out 
■after many wanderings to the place of my destination. The next day I 
return and follow my own marks of broken twigs hanging to limbs and 
bushes along the way, and I get back safely again to the side of the 
wood from which I first started. 

b. I have remembered the way by the broken twigs, which are to me 
the signs and phenomena of the fact, and the conception which I formed 
from it of my having been that way before ; and bringing together my 
conception of my having been that way before, and the broken twigs 
which were the phenomena of my having been that way before, I re- 
cognize the fact that I have been that way before. This is remembering, 
or re-cognizing, which is the same thing and the same act precisely as 
cognizing without the " re." 

c. But the illustration is not done. I pass on across an open prairie, 
and come to another broad, dense forest. I desire to go through that, 
but am unable to do so without clanger of being lost, and propose to 
save myself again by my old expedient of breaking the twigs of limbs 
and bushes as I go along; but, on entering the forest, I find that some 
one has already be.en before me and done this same thing. I follow the 
lead of the suspended twigs, as they hang broken from limb and bush, 
and come through to my place of destination. 

d. What is the difference between the mental act in following the 
branches which I mys*elf have broken on a former occasion, and follow- 
ing those which another has broken for the same purpose? When I 
follow the way marked by the phenomena of broken twigs which an- 
other has broken, I plainly, simply cognize these phenomena under the 



THE INTELLECT. 545 

conception ol free cause which has broken them with design. I sim- 
ply cognize these phenomena of the fact that somebody has been there 
and broken them, as way-marks, which I had already formed from the 
facts of free cause in my own consciousness. In the former case I cog- 
nize the phenomena of the broken twigs as marks of the way, by the 
conception formed by my reason of this fact when I myself went 
through the woods and broke them for that purpose. 

€. In the one case I formed my conception from my own original and 
primary facts of free cause already in my own consciousness ; in the 
other, I formed my conception from the facts of an objective experience 
in which I myself had performed the work. The one was formed from 
my own subjective, the other from my own objective experience. But 
my power to make the objective experiment was the fact of my having 
an original subjective experiment already on hand in my own conscious- 
ness. I could not have understood and performed my own experiment 
of breaking the twigs as a way-mark if I had not already had in my 
own knowledge an original experiment of my own free will, as cause 
putting forth its own causal act as a matter of design, and a conception, 
or rather idea, of that subjective causation already formed from it by 
my reason. 

f. With these qualifications I resort to the expedient of the way- 
marks, and make them, and then cognize my own work, and compre- 
hend it, and form from it a conception. When I return to my line of 
way-marks again, and follow them through the wood, what do I but 
cognize them again, precisely as I did at the first, when I had just com- 
pleted them ? Now, what have I with which to cognize this series of 
way-marks more than I have to cognize the series which another has 
made? Evidently this ; viz., my own conception of my own personal 
act of making the series of way-marks, and the fact that the series 
which I arranged was made in another place, at another time, and in 
another style from that made by the other person. 

g. The phenomena differ as to time and place, style and route, but 
are in other respects essentially alike. The one series of broken twigs 
meaus that somebody has been there, and marked the way in that place, 
before me. The other series of broken twigs means that I myself have 
been there before, and have already broken these twigs as way-marks ; 
and while a stranger might look upon them with the same conception 
of their use in his mind, and cognize them both from the same concep- 
tion, I cognize them with different conceptions ; the one with a concep- 
tion precisely like his, and the other with the conception that I myself 
have already been on the ground, and before broken the twigs as marks 
of the way. Now, this last is called remembering, while the other is 
called cognizing ; but the- mental acts seem to be precisely the same ; 
69 



546 AUTOLOGY. 

if one is remembering, why is not the other ? and if one is only cogniz- 
ing, why is the other more ? 

h. We come to the conclusion, then, that this difference between cog- 
nizing and remembering lies not in the nature of the act, but in the 
object and the conception employed. To wit, I cognize the way-marks 
of broken twigs which another has made ; I remember the way-marks of 
broken twigs which I have myself made. Why ? Because the way- 
marks made by myself differ as to time and place, style and route, and 
in their relation to me, from others. I made the conception of them 
while I was making them. The conception is of my own experience in 
making them, as well as of the way-marks themselves. 

i. Suppose those way-marks through the wood to lead northward and 
across the Canada line ; they would mean to him whose destination is 
beyond them, simply the way through the wood ; to a fugitive from 
slavery they would mean also the way to freedom ; to him who had 
himself made them as way-marks, they would mean, in addition to all, 
that he himself had contrived and made them. The first cognizes' but one 
thing — the way through the wood. The second cognizes in them the 
way through the wood, and the way to freedom also. The third cog- 
nizes in them the way through the wood and the way to freedom for the 
refugee, and also the fact that he himself had made them as way-marks. 

VIII. Remembei'ing employs a larger conception than cognizing does. 

a. All that is peculiar to remembering, as distinguished from cogniz- 
ing, lies in the extent of the conceptions with which the acts are respec- 
tively performed, the conception with which I remember being simply 
more extended — though not different in kind — than the conception 
with which I cognize ; a difference which we find in all varieties of cog- 
nition. As, for instance, to one who had never seen a ship the helm 
would be merely a lever ; but to the sailor it is also that which guides 
the ship. The greasy scum in the stagnant water was only an offensive 
sight to the original settler, but .to the man of to-day it is the rich and 
joyous evidence of vast cisterns of valuable oil, by which the wants of 
the world are to be supplied, and wealth obtained. To the sailor with 
no compass the north star is a fixed point by which to guide his way 
over the ocean. To the enslaved in the South it pointed to the land of 
freedom. The object cognized is the same in both cases, the method of 
cognition is the same, but the conception of the star with which it is 
cognized differs. * 

b. Just so in remembering. We employ a different and a larger con- 
ception than in simply cognizing. And all cognizing is as much remem- 
bering as any act of cognizing is ; for it is all done and performed by 
using a conception which we have before formed either from the original 



THE INTELLECT. 547 

facts of consciousness or from facts of objective experience which are 
retained in the mind, in all cases, by the same consciousness ; so that it 
is just as correct, so far as the nature of the act is concerned, to say 
that all cognizing is remembering, as- that anything, any act of cogniz- 
ing, is remembering ; for all acts of cognition ai'e, in their nature, 
precisely like all acts which are called remembering. 

c. When I form an idea of cause from the activity of my own mind, 
or from the act of my own free will, it is done by my reason, which 
notes the act and forms the conception from it. When I form a, concep- 
tion of an act of causation done by myself, my reason notes the same 
act of the same free will working out through the hands, and forms its 
conception from it; i. e., from the joint working of the original causal 
action of the free will in the consciousness, and the action of the same 
will working out its causation in objective acts. Therefore, as we have 
repeatedly seen, the object of the conception is- the same in both cases ; 
i. e., a personal experience ; but the latter is broader, taking in with it 
the objective, as well as the subjective, action ; and thus we see also 
that the conception is retained in the same way. 

d. (1.) The reason applies the idea formed from the fact of conscious- 
ness to the fact perceived through the senses ; (2.) but, in doing this, it 
forms also, at the same time, and by the same act, a conception of the 
fact thus cognized ; (3.) this it passes over to the consciousness, and 
applies again to the original facts from which the idea was formed. 
(4.) But, as this now conception conforms to the essential nature of the 
original fact, it is verified to be a true conception, and the whole opera- 
tion of cognition is proved to^be valid. (5.) Thus is the conception 
fastened on to the original fact of consciousness as its conception, and 
is retained by it always in consciousness as a living presence, needing 
no remembering ; (6.) for the facts and the ideas in the consciousness 
are neither remembering nor cognizing, but the means of both. (7.) 
They are primary and pre-requisite knowings, essential in order that 
cognizing and remembering may be. 

e. Now, let it be observed that the making of way-marks by the 
breaking of twigs on branches and bushes, as I go through the woods, is 
a work of personal causation. When it is done I look upon it as an 
object before me, and cognize it as a work of myself as personal cause, 
by applying to it my idea of personal cause in my consciousness ; and 
when thus cognized, I, by the same act, form a conception of it, and 
pass it over into my consciousness, which holds it as a conception 
of the working of myself as personal cause, and precisely the same per- 
sonal cause as that which it holds in its own embrace, and from which 
the reason formed its ideas of personal cause. And this same idea it 



548 AUTOLOGY. 

was, by which the act of personal causation, in making the way-marks, 
was cognized which is now the subject of memory. 

/. Thus is this conception of the act of forming the way-marks, by 
breakingthe twigs by my own personal cause, held in the consciousness 
in precisely the same way that the original ideas of personal causation 
are held, and is the conception of the work of the same personal cause 
as that from which the original idea of personal cause was formed, and 
that is held in mind by consciousness as an ever, present fact, and is not 
at all a matter of memory. Thus, again, is remembering, both as an act 
of recognition, and as an act of forming and retaining in the mind the 
conception of the thing to be recognized, an act of cognition, just like 
any other act of cognition, and no more and no less. Every cognition 
is as much a remembering as any cognition is an act of remembering, 
and all knowing and all remembering must be identical. 

IX. What is forgetting ? 

a. If remembering is cognizing, then, certainly, there can be no for- 
getting which is not simply a failing to cognize ; but failing to know is 
failing to have a mind altogether. If we can cease to remember only as 
we cease to know, and can lose the capability of remembering only as 
we lose the capability of knowing, then there is no such thing as for- 
getting only as we cease to exist and become annihilated ; the immortal 
mind, therefore, never forgets anything. 

b. Forgetting, as we call it, occurs when the phenomena of the object 
are absent, and when the word or identifying mark, by which it is 
usually recalled, cannot be brought before us. Then, as we say, ,we 
have totally forgotten the object. We may remember that we have seen 
it, but this is only a general recollection, as of the knife in the package 
with many others like it, which we are unable to identify. We remem- 
ber that we have seen and selected one of them, but which we cannot tell 
until we have found the mark which we made on the handle, and then 
we remember it at once. 

c. In this way we may remember that we have seen or heard some- 
thing without remembering precisely what, and for the reason above 
given. We forget by losing the phenomena of an object ; we remember 
when the phenomena are brought before us. And this is precisely the 
way in which we cognize. As cognition will always take place when 
the conception and the phenomenon of an object are brought together, 
so remembering will always take place when the conception and the 
phenomenon of the thing to be remembered are brought together. 

d. The reason why we never forget the original facts of the mind is, 
that they are'the mind, and the ideas of the reason are directly formed 
from them, and held perpetually in the same consciousness. They are 



THE INTELLECT. 5-49 

the things known already in the mind, and are ever kept fresh in cogni- 
tion by the unceasing action of the consciousness and the reason. (See 
Action and Reaction as fact and idea, Div. II.) These facts are the 
mind, and are ever in it, and can never die out, only when the mind itself 
perishes. Just so the ideas of the reason are ever necessarily in con- 
sciousness, and so are the conceptions formed from external facts ever 
necessarily affirmed by the reason, and held necessarily also in the con- 
sciousness in perpetual knowledge, even as the original facts and ideas 
themselves. 

e. Now, as we cognize the unknown by the known, so also do we re- 
member the forgotten, rather the absent, by that which is in the con- 
sciousness ; that is, we cognize thus the phenomena of an object which 
we have formerly seen by the conception which we have of it in 
our consciousness. What, then, is recollecting, if we never forget ? 
We mean by it the effort to find the phenomena of the object or 
event which we would remember when we have searched long to recall 
a place, person, or event, and cannot succeed in doing it. A person 
trying to help us, and to make us remember, will mention one thing 
after another relating to the time, place, form, mode, quality, quan- 
tity, cause, &c, of the object he would have us remember, but is baffled 
at every attempt ; all is blank to us ; we say that we, have forgotten all 
about the matter. But, at length, he mentions some one little circum- 
stance or peculiarity about the object in question, and at once we remem- 
ber it. What was the secret of a'll this ? Simply that the one thing 
which alone stood for the phenomena of the object or event to be remem- 
bered, had not yet come before us ; but the moment it did come before 
us, we remembered the whole matter. 

f. We sometimes recall a person's looks, business, plaoe of residence, 
but fail to recall his name. Why is it ? The reason is, that these things 
were never, to our mind, the phenomena of his name, and therefore could 
never recall it. The mind has its own peculiar way in selecting that 
which, to it, shall stand as the phenomenon of its conceptions of having 
seen and known an object. We do not know what it is. It is often not 
the most prominent characteristic, but sometimes a very obscure one ; 
but when this phenomenon which the mind has actually taken as a phe- 
nomenon of an object and of the fact that it has seen it before, is found 
and presented, then it always remembers, recognizes it, and will do so, 
as long as the mind itself lasts. . 

g. There is, then, no such thing as forgetting, but only failing to find 
the right phenomena which are to the mind the representation of an 
event or an object. When that object is presented anywhere in time or 
in eternity^ then the mind will infallibly remember ; and hence total for- 



550 AUTOLOGY. 

getfulness is an impossibility. Nothing short of annihilation can cause 
utter forgetfulness. 

h. It must be noted that producing and presenting that thing which 
is the means of our recollecting, is not an act of remembering, but an 
antecedent act performed by the other faculties of the mind. It is not 
the work of remembering to produce a fact, nor to form a conception 
of a fact ; but it is the work of remembering to cognize the fact by the 
conceptions, when they are brought together ; but is not this act of cog- 
nition identical with all cognition ? Certainly it is identical with all 
cognition. Remembering, then, and cognizing here once more appear to 
be one and the same act. 

SECT. V. THE EEASON REMEMBERS. 

E. The mutual relation of believing, cognizing, and remembering. 

a. We have already seen what it is to know, and what absolute know- 
ing is, and what relative knowing is. We have seen that we cannot 
know anything relatively until we have known something absolutely. We 
have seen that, by absolute knowing, the consciousness gives us the pri- 
mary and original facts of being. 

b. We have seen also that, by absolute knowing, the reason compre- 
hends those primary and original facts of consciousness, and transforms 
them into universal and necessary ideas, and that thus the mind is 
qualified to perceive and cognize the objects presented to it by the sense. 

c. We have seen that the reason, armed with ideas behind it and 
with the faculties of sense before it, is prepared to go out into the world 
cognizing and to cognize ; that, first, on occasion of coming into contact 
with external things by means of physical resistance and the five senses, 
it perceives, i. e., becomes aware of the presence of these objects ; that 
then, after having the external object thus in apprehension as perceived, 
it cognizes it, i. e., translates it by means of the ideas which it already 
has,- and passes the knowledge of it over into the consciousness, to be 
held there forever as the possession of the soul, becoming, like the origi- 
nal facts and ideas, a part of its absolute knowledge. 

d. Here we observe two conditions of cognizing; viz., the possession 
by the reason of original ideas, and the presentation by the sense of an 
external object: then the act of knowing, i. e., the act of translating the 
language of the sense into the language of ideas, takes place, and the 
cognizing is consummated. The same conditions and the same opera- 
tions we have found requisite also in order to remembering. We have 
found that we remember by cognizing 'or interpreting the phenomena of 
a past mental act by the conception in the mind of that past act. 

e. What, now, is believing, as compared with cognizing and remem- 



THE INTELLECT. 551 

bering ? To this it is replied, that we believe with the same reason and 
with the same ideas and conceptions with which we cognize and remem- 
ber, yet without the presence of the phenomenal object of the sense. 
We can never cognize nor remember without both the idea or conception 
of an object, or the knowable of an object, and also the phenomenal pres- 
ence of that object, the former supplied by the reason, and the latter by 
the sense ; but we can believe when we have only the original ideas of 
the knowable of objects, or the conception of an object in the reason 
without any object of the sense present. Indeed, if the objects of sense 
were present, then it would not be believing, but knowing. 

/. Thus believing has the same original basis that knowing and re- 
membering have, and is as certain and reliable as knowing or remember- 
ing. Absolute knowing, both as ideas and conceptions, is the means of 
knowing and remembering that which comes within the reach of contact 
and sensation ; and it is also the ground of faith in that which lies 
beyond them ; for surely that by which I cognize the unknown must 
itself need no cognizing, but must be absolutely known ; and secondly, 
that by means of which I remember must be something that itself needs 
no remembering, and is never forgotten ; and thirdly, that by means 
of which I believe in the unseen and unknown must itself not be a sub- 
ject of belief. 

g. Therefore, as I know, or cognize, external things relatively by 
means of the ideas or knowledges of the knowable, which I know ab- 
solutely, so also must I remember external and absent things or events 
by means of a knowledge that itself does not need remembering ; and 
so also must I believe in things absent by means of that which does not 
need to be believed, but which itself is abs-olutely known. Thus* is it 
manifest that cognizing, remembering, and believing, depend each on 
the same original and primary facts, ideas, and conceptions, which are 
known absolutely, and held perpetually in the mind. 

h. As the facts and ideas of absolute knowing are the means by 
which the mind is qualified for relative knowing, so are they the means 
of its being able to remember ; and as they are that which gives to the 
mind the power of remembering, so also do these same facts and ideas 
arm it with the power of believing. 

i. As we know some unknown thing external to us by means of 
something which we already know, and as we remember some outside 
thing by means of that which we can never forget within us, so also do 
we believe in something unknown by means of what we do actually 
know already. Our belief is always based on that which we do know, 
and not on that which we do not know ; and though we believe in that 
which we do not cognize, yet this belief is,always proportionate to ©ur 
pre-existent knowledge, whether of ideas or conceptions : a faith, or 



552 AUTOLOGY. 

belief, which is not according to knowledge, is not faith, but fanat- 
icism. 

j. The reason, as we have seen, believes, perceives, cognizes, remem- 
bers. Cognizing and remembering are identical, and throw light on 
believing. We cognize and remember by translating the thing to be 
known or remembered, when that thing is presented by the sense, by 
our idea or conception of it already in possession of the reason. On the 
contrary, we believe in a thing or event by means of the idea, concep- 
tion, and knowledge we have of it already in possession of the reason, 
but without having the object presented to us by the sense. 

k. I embark on the sea whose shores are beyond my sight, and steer 
by the compass for Liverpool, which, I am told, lies in a certain latitude 
and longitude. I believe that, by steering in such a direction, I shall 
arrive at Liverpool. How does this belief differ from knowledge ? 
Only in this : the object or place towards which I steer is out of sight : 
I cannot see Liverpool from New York. The senses cannot bring the 
object before me ; and therefore I do not know it, but believe in it. 

I. In leaving the dock at New York, I can see Staten Island, and 
steer for it. This is not faith, but knowledge. I employ all my nau- 
tical skill in ship managing in order to reach the place. When I sail 
for Liverpool, I do the same, only I do not see the port towards which 
I am steering. The latter is faith, the former is knowledge. My faith 
reposes on the laws of nature and the facts of experience, and on the 
principles of mathematics already known. 

m. So, recurring to the illustration of making my way through the 
woods by breaking twigs along my path, when I return through the 
dense»forest, I remember my way by the broken twigs, which I myself 
broke, and because I broke them, and, following them, I come through 
in safety. This, as we have seen, is remembering, and is identical with 
knowing. But when I cross an open field, and come to another woods 
through which I wish to pass, but which I have never traversed, I fear 
I shall be lost in it, because I have no guide. I therefore resort to 
my old expedient of breaking down twigs along my path, so that I can 
find my way back in case I do not get through. But, on setting out, I 
immediately find that somebody has been there before me, and has already 
marked away through the woods by breaking down twigs. I at once 
follow that way, and come through safely. 

n. Now, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, the taking of these 
broken twigs as marks of the way which I find made by another, is not 
remembering, but simply cognizing them as way-marks ; and that be- 
cause I did not myself break them and make them way-marks. But 
this is not all. When I follow those broken twigs, broken as way- 
marks by another, and they lead me through the woods, I do not sim- 



THE INTELLECT. 553 

ply cognize them, but I believe in them as the way-marks which another 
has made. Faith, then, differs from knowing and remembering in that 
neither the phenomena of the object, nor the phenomena that mark my 
having seen it before, are present to my sense ; and my power, or capa- 
bility of believing consists in the same antecedent knowledge, whether 
ideas or conceptions, in which my capability, or power, of knowing or 
remembering consists. 

6. Thus, believing, cognizing, and remembering, are homogeneous 
acts of the mind : they all rest on the same foundation, and are all pro- 
duced by means of the same antecedent knowledge; viz., absolute 
knowledge. In the process of knowing, we have, first, absolute know- 
ing ; second, believing; third, cognizing, or relative knowing; and 
fourth, remembering. 

p. In believing, the original ideas alone are present in the mind, 
while the things, or objects, believed in arc absent from the mind. In 
cognizing, the same original ideas are present in the mind, and also the 
object cognized : these must be brought before the mind by means of 
the sense. In remembering, the same original ideas are, in like manner, 
present in the mind ; and also the object remembered, either in its real, 
or memorial, or representative form, must be present, in order to be 
known or remembered. We thus have a uniform basis and a homoge- 
neity of action for believing, cognizing, and remembering, while • they 
are distinguished by clear and strong marks, as to their conditions and 
operations. 

*0 



554 AUTOLOGY. 



CHAPTER III. 

OPERATIONS OF THE REASON. 

ART. II. THE REASON COMBINES EXTERNAL FACTS. 
SECT. I. THE REASON ABSTRACTS, GENERALIZES, AND CLASSIFIES. 

a. The reason, after haviug cognized numerous objects, selects from 
each of them that one thing in which they all agree, and neglecting 
every other attribute in all and each of them, fastens only on this ; as, 
for instance, the vertebrae in animals. This is called Abstraction. 
Then it characterizes the whole group by this one mark ; this is called 

•Generalization. Then, going to another group of objects, or to the 
same, with others, it selects another point in which they all agree, viz., 
the warm-blooded ; and it characterizes all that have this mark by this 
mark alone, and calls them by that name. This also is abstraction and 
generalization. 

b. But this taking one mark and arranging around it all that have it, 
and a different mark and arranging around it all that have that mark, — in 
short, this grouping according to different marks, is classifying ; and in 
this way is knowledge both increased and rendered useful and remeni- 
berable. 

c. The reason, having, by means of the categories and the sense, 
come to the knowledge of external objects, proceeds at once to classify 
and arrange them according to their nature and characteristics ; to wit, 
they are divided into the Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral kingdoms ; 
and these again are subdivided into classes, orders, tribes, families, 
genera, and species ; as in zoology, botany, and mineralogy. Each 
individual is placed in the class, order, tribe, family, genus, and species 
to which it belongs ; and thus knowledge is perfected, and increased, 
and rendered available. 

d. In this way new conceptions are formed from external facts, and 
pew categories for cognition ; as the vertebrated and the invertebrated 
animals, the mammalia, the feline, the canine. All these become con- 
ceptions of a class, order, or genus ; and each individual species is an 
individual conception, and all become the categories by which they are 
to be cognized. 



THE INTELLECT. " * 555 

e. The same is true of botany and mineralogy, of chemistry and 
astronomy. The knowledge attained is thus arranged and disposed 
according to natural differences and distinctions. The same is true of all 
the productions of mechanics and of art. Architecture has its styles and 
orders ; painting and sculpture have their schools ; ships have their 
diversities of structure and rigging ; and all things made by man dispose 
of themselves according to their own name and nature. In the learned 
professions we find the same. We have courts of law and equity ; we 
have civil, military, -and municipal law, maritime law, and the laws of 
nations, criminal law, and the law of insurance, patents, &c. 

f. Medicine has its anatomy and pathology, and a system of treat- 
ment for almost every member of the body. Theology is polemic, and 
didactic, and pastoral ; and philosophy has its schools — Scotch, German, 
English, and French, and in them all is dogmatical, inductive, pantheis- 
tic, transcendental, or common-sense, rational, or sensational. 

g. Thus all knowledge gathered up from the outer world, and by the 
mind, full armed, and fully developed, is named and classified, divided 
and specified, ready for remembrance and use. We now have not only 
individual conceptions, but conceptions of orders, classes, genera, and 
species. Yet none of this knowledge could ever have been obtained if 
the mind had not first had its facts of consciousness, and from them formed 
its ideas by the reason, and with them explained, translated, and cog- 
nized the facts and objects of the outer world presented by the senses. 

h. It is not the province of mental philosophy to present all the sub- 
ject-matter of knowledge, but to show the faculties of the mind ; hence 
we need not here attempt any survey of the fields of knowledge into 
which the mind may enter. Our office is rather to show the faculties 
and qualifications of the mind by which it is enabled to enter them, and 
cognize all that is in them, and that while it, in the first instance, cog- 
nizes them by means of ideas formed by its own reason from the facts 
of its own consciousness, yet when it has possessed itself of a knowl- 
edge of the facts and objects of the external world, it then arranges, 
classifies, and names the objects which it thus finds, according to princi- 
ples and laws, differences and distinctions, which it finds in them. 

i. And here the great field of knowledge opens upon us ; and here it 
is that we find that " much study is a weariness to the flesh," and that 
"of the making of books there is no end." Here it is, that by means 
of special conceptions, and generic conceptions, and conceptions of 
classes and orders, we combine, marshal, and dispose of all our knowl- 
edge so as to subject it to our command, and make it available for our 
use. Thus the reason abstracts a peculiar mark, and then generalizes 
into species, genus, order, and class, all objects which are the subject 
of knowledge in the external world. 



556 AUTOLOGY. 



SECT. II. THE REASON RATIOCINATES. 

a. This operation of reason introduces us at once into the field of 
logic. Logic is either real or formal. Real logic is simply cognition, 
and formal logic is a system of rules by which we demonstrate that our 
cognition is correct. The term logic may be applied either to the 
subject-matter of knowledge ; that is, the nature of things, or the things 
known and their dynamical relations, or to the method of knowing them. 
The former is real logic, and is the higher sense, in which most German 
authors use it, and the latter is the sense in which it is commonly used 
in English. The former is also sometimes called pure, and the latter, 
applied logic. 

6. Yet it must not be overlooked, that in pure logic the laws of i 
thought and the laws of nature are made identical, so that logic in this 
sense signifies the same as real logic, viz., the nature of things ; and 
thinking is regarded as tracing the nature of things ; so that the laws 
of thought and the laws of nature are one and the same. Now, this 
would be true if we had all nature within the grasp of our minds to start 
with, and if we then reasoned correctly ; but we know not that this is 
the case, and therefore we cannot make the extent of our knowledge 
the extent of the nature of things. 

c. That cognition and real logic are the same, will appear, when we 
consider the. following facts ; viz., the force of gravitation is in the direct 
ratio of the quantity of bodies, and in the reverse ratio of the squares of 
their distances from the object ; this is a dynamical relation of bodies, 
ascertained by experiment, or what we call a law of nature. Now, this 
is direct cognition with the faculties of sense and reason, attained by 
actual experiment. 

d. Should the above matter of fact, however, be laid down as a 
theory before experiment, as a logical proposition, and as a major prem- 
ise in a syllogism, and should the comparative attractive force of any 
particular body be deduced therefrom, it might all be correct ; but all 
that the syllogism could show would be, that the relation between the 
major and minor premise was correct and true. Both of these, proposi- 
tions would, so far as the syllogism is concerned, be mere assumptions. 
The syllogism, then, may further, correct and increase our knowledge 
when our premises or propositions out of which we make it are true ; 
but it has no power to find out these propositions in the first place, nor 
to prove them true when found ; it can only show the relation between 
them, and make it appear that what is affirmed in the second is con- 
tained in the first, and, therefore, true according to the first, and if the 
first is true. 

e. Cognition, then, is the only direct method of gaining knowledge, 



THE INTELLECT. 557 

and is hence the true logic ; for it carries with it, net only the truth of 
the relations of major and minor premise, but the truth of the proposi- 
tions themselves, as especially the fact of the dynamical relation between 
them ; so that cognition is living and actual, and not simply formal 
logic. In this sense is logic the method of informing ourselves, and in 
this way are the laws of logic and the laws of nature one ; in this way 
the relations of logical propositions and the relations of the forces of 
nature, of which they are the true definition and statement, are also one ; 
that is, one in form ; for, of course, the one is a mere set of definitions, 
while the other is also a set of impenetrable forces and realities ; and 
this logic, which is cognition, is true and real just so far as it extends. 

f. If I cognize an object by its cause, the thing which I cognize is 
the relation between the object and its. cause. This is done, as we have 
repeatedly seen, by first having a sensuous perception of the object, as 
embodying the cause ; and the cause is the causal relation, as the figure 
on the wax shows, when it embodies the cause, and when also the causal 
force is embodied in it ; so that the relation of the cause to the effect 
has a physical embodiment, and is cognized by the sense and the reason, 
just as any other object is cognized. 

g. Now, this is true, real, and complete logic, the logic of fact and 
proposition, of reality and form, of dynamical as well as logical relations 
between the major and minor propositions, and in which the form of the 
syllogism is the true expression of the actual and real form of the nature 
of things ; and the relation expressed by the conclusion between the 
major and minor premise is the real and dynamical relation between the 
force defined in the major premise and the force defined in the minor 
premise, and not simply the relation of the meaning of the words con- 
tained in the minor premise, as is the case in mere formal logic. In this 
latter sense logic is a mere detector of' error, or a demonstrator of 
truth in propositions already known, and cognition already made, or 
supposed to be made, and not a discoverer or procurer of knowledge 
from the original sources. 

h. Precisely here is the controversy between the ontologist, who 
claims to be able to comprehend the first principles of all things in his 
system of logic, as did Fichte, and Schelling, and Hegel, and Cousin, 
and the opposite schools, especially Kant, and the Scotch and English, 
who contend that " there are more things in heaven and earth than are 
dreamed of" in German philosophy; i. e., things whose existence we can 
demonstrate with certainty, yet whose nature or mode of being we can- 
not at all comprehend, in any nature of things or sj'stem of logic, as 
Hegel and Cousin, and others have tried to do. 

i. Logic is certainly built on the laws of nature, and is, when correct, 
an exposition of these laws ; but this can be the case only so far as we 



558 AUTOLOGY. . 

know nature, and nature we know only by an act of cognition. Cogni- 
tion is knowing, or ascertaining, what nature is, and in this sense it is 
real logic. Yet it is the knowing that is logic, and not the nature which 
is known ; and formal logic is the explaining and setting forth in words 
and in propositions what the process of cognizing is. The knowing of 
the laws of nature and these laws themselves are not identical ; but the 
former is real logic, while the latter is the subject of real logic ; and 
formal logic is the statement of the act of cognizing nature in a syllo- 
gistic form, so as to know it better ourselves, to prove and correct it, and 
also, as we shall see, to communicate it to others. 

j. Cognition is real logic, for it cognizes the subject-matter of major 
and minor propositions, and the dynamical relation between them, ex- 
pressed in the conclusion, and vouches for their truth. But logic, in its 
common acceptation, — that is, formal or applied logic, — is a system of 
rules, according to which propositions are arranged, so as to detect any 
verbal error that may be in the verbal relation of major and minor 
premise, as expressed in the words of the conclusion, and to bring out 
the truth, as in the syllogism, having major and minor premise, and 
conclusion ; viz., " All men are mortal : Cicero is a man ; therefore 
Cicero is mortal." 

k. Yet, clearly, all these methods of formal logic are simply methods 
of cognition, and processes through which the mind goes in every act of 
cognition, however simple. When an object is presented to the mind 
by the senses, and cognized by the reason, the reason in that act of cog- 
nition goes through the ordinary logical process of laying down a major 
premise, arranging under it a minor premise, and thus drawing a conclu- 
sion ; as when, by the sense of physical resistance, I come into contact 
with an external object, my reason has already laid down the major prem- 
ise : 1. Whatever has impenetrability is a substance. 2. This object, with 
which I come in contact by my own impenetrable physical resistance, has 
impenetrability. 3. Therefore it is a substance. 

I. Now, this is a simple act of cognition, as wo have repeatedly shown 
in the chapter on cognition ; but it is also obviously, as here appears, a 
logical process purely, and this is logic ; and this shows that the rules, 
forms, and syllogisms of formal logic are simply explanations of the 
acts of cognition, or real logic, and methods of detecting the error, or 
demonstrating the truth, that may be in .them. 

m. And as for the view of Hegel, .and Cousin, and others, who would 
identify and make one the systems of logic and the laws of nature, 
and who confound the logical and the ontological, as they term it, it 
may be said, that beyond doubt God's laws of logic and laws of nature 
are one and the same, his nature of things and his logical processes, his 
logic and his ontology, are identical, so far as he chooses to create nature 



THE INTELLECT. 559 

parallel to, and in fulfilment of, his own logical processes. But as we 
know not that God has created all that he could create, or told all that 
he could tell, or put all his own plans, thoughts, and conceptions into 
execution and actual existences, so we do not know that in God's 
universe it is true even to the mind of God, that "all that is logical, 
is," — even though all that is, is unquestionably logical ; so thai neither 
Mr. Hegel's ontology, nor that of any other man, can be true; viz., 
"that all that is logical, is, or all that is, is logical. " 

n. Now, the reason reasons or ratiocinates (as, for the sake of avoiding 
tautology, we have termed it) ; that is, it cognizes according to certain 
rules, whether those rules- are known to it at the time or not. It argues, 
and thus cognizes, or knows things, and thus arguing is informing one's 
self, or attaining knowledge. The only difference between cognizing 
and arguing is, that in the first case we employ actual sensations and 
actual ideas, and thus know sensuousky, rationally, and consciously; while 
in arguing, we, in the absence of sensation, state a rational proposition, 
arrange it under another statement of fact, and then draw a conclusion ; 
and the truth of the argument, or cognition, depends not at all on the 
actual existence of that which is affirmed in the major or minor premise, 
but on the truth of the relation between them ; while the truth of a cog- 
nition depends on the reality of the seuse-operation, and the reality of 
the facts of consciousness, on which, the reason forms its ideas. 

o. An act of cognition is true, because consciousness cannot be ques- 
tioned, and reason cannot be questioned, in their essential and independ- 
ent affirmations of truth. But a logical argument is true, even though 
all these be false, and nothing but the conclusion, stating the relation 
between the major and minor premise, is true. That whatever is, is logi- 
cal, is no doubt true, and we doubtless could show it so, if we could get 
hold of all the facts that constitute the major and the minor premise ; 
but without these facts we cannot do that. 

p. If, however, we can ascertain the logical relation of the facts which 
are -within our reach, we shall do all that is needful ; and if we, in the 
light of this logic, can see that some supposed, or asserted, or revealed 
thing is illogical, still we must remember that it is only illogical, and by 
no means thereby shown to be unreal ; for if we had all the facts, we 
should be able to see that it was both real and logical. 

q. Logic, i. e., formal logic, is the process of cognition, drawn out 
and explained, so as to show the truth or the falseness of the act of 
cognition ; and. as such, it. is not so much a means of attaining knowl- 
edge in the first instance, as it is a means of correcting and proving 
knowledge already attained. The act of cognition is the means of attain- 
ing knowledge ; but when a logical process, by its conclusion, shows that 
a certain unknown thing is logical, we at once conclude that it is proba- 



560 AUTOLOGY. 

ble, and may at once seek, by an act of ordinary cognition through the 
sense and the reason, to prove by experiment whether the thing really 
exists or not. Thus a logical process may show an act of cognition 
illusory, and an act of cognition may show a logical conclusion to be 
merely theoretical or fallacious. 

r. The act of cognition attacks, in its testing of the syllogism, the 
matter of fact of the major or minor proposition of the syllogism, while 
the logical process, in testing ^the truth of an act of cognition, attacks 
the relation of the propositions to one another. The one is a question 
of fact, and the other of relation. Thus the reason argues in quest of 
knowledge. Logic, as such (that is, formal logic), deals altogether with 
the truths of the relations of major and minor premises ; and this it does 
by comparing the mere verbal statements of the minor with the major 
proposition. 

s. If it finds the verbal statement of the minor proposition contained 
in terms in the verbal statement of the major proposition, then it affirms 
that the conclusion is correct and true ; but it says nothing about, and 
knows nothing about, the truth of the matter affirmed in either of the 
propositions. On the contrary, real logic, which is identical with cogni- 
tion, has to do both with the truth and the reality of the. matter affirmed 
in the propositions, and also the truth and the reality of the dynamical 
relation between them. 

t. All veritable cognition, as we have shown, cognizes the relation 
between substance and quality, and between cause and effect, as directly, 
and by the same means, as it does the phenomenon of the cause and the 
•phenomenon of the effect. That is, it finds the phenomenon of the con- 
nection, as 'well as of the things connected, i. e., the cause and the 
effect, and cognizes the phenomenon of that dynamical connection in 
precisely the same, way that it cognizes any other phenomenon. And 
this is real logic, while the syllogism can give us only formal logic, in 
the words which define the actual things of real logic and the truths of 
the verbal and formal relation between them. 

u. Thus is logic, both as real and as formal, the moans of informing 
ourselves. Real logic cognizes new propositions ; formal logic proves 
the truth of the relation between them as stated in words: thus is the 
syllogism the means both of acquiring and of communicating knowledge, 
and belongs, consequently, to both Logic and Rhetoric, according to the 
purpose for which it is used. And this brings us to the next operation 
of the Reason; viz., Rhetorizing, in which we shall note the difference 
between real and formal logic more clearly, and the difference between 
Logic and Rhetoric. 



THE INTELLECT. 561 

SECT. III. THE REASON RHETORIZES. 

a. This operation of the reason, together with the two following, 
Theorizing and Inventing, acts' with more or less directness in ref- 
erence to the second set of classes of the affections, viz., the social, the 
patriotic, and the philanthropic. 

b. These operations have a general, and in some instances a specific 
relation to these classes of affections ; and we note it, in passing, for their 
own sake, and for the sake especially of the next set of affections, whose 
relations to the operations of the reason are obvious. Premising thus 
much as to the relation of these mental operations to the affections, we 
inquire, Does the reason rhetorize ? 

c. Some one has said that "by Logic we attain knowledge for our- 
selves, and that by Rhetoric we communicate knowledge to others,'' — 
that logic is thus the thinking and knowing operation, while rhetoric is 
the teaching, and preaching, and communicating operation : the former 
makes treatises and systems of truth, and science and philosophy ; that 
is, originates and thinks them out, while the latter writes and arranges, 
classifies and expresses them ; and thus it is that the logicians do the 
thinking, and the rhetoricians do the writing, teaching, and speaking ; 
and these are the reasons why we have both good books and bad books ; 
good when the rhetorician understands the thinker, and writes accord- 
ingly, or when the logician is himself also a rhetorician ; and bad when 
the logician cannot write, or when the rhetorician cannot think. 

d. The elder Edwards was the better thinker, the younger, the^ better 
writer ; Kant was a powerful thinker, but a poor writer. Thomas 
Brown was a fluent and rhetorical writer, but not a profound thinker. 
Sir William Hamilton seemed to be more adapted to philology than to 
logic or rhetoric. 

e. As logic is the act of knowing, so rhetoric is the act of expressing 
knowledge. Whatsoever is the instrument of communicating knowl- 
edge, therefore, belongs to rhetoric, or may be employed by it. With 

.this view the syllogism belongs rather to rhetoric than to logic ; for it is 
employed, not in acquiring, but in explaining knowledge ; not in origi- 
nating knowledge, but in correcting it ; not in cognizing in the first in- 
stance, but in proving" what we thus know, and in showing it to another. 
If true logic consists in real cognition, true rhetoric consists in a clear 
expression of that cognition in words and figures of speech ; and surely 
for this purpose the syllogism is useful and requisite. 

f. But rhetoric is not only the clear and convincing, but also the 
forceful, elegant, and persuasive utterance of the truth in written com- 
position, or real speech ; and for this purpose all the modes of speech 
and figures of language are requisite. Rhetoric will, therefore, have 

11 



562 AUTOLOGY. 

fitting words wrought into well-formed sentences ; it will combine them 
into clear and strong propositions, and frame them into true and valid 
syllogisms of major and minor premises and conclusion, and with this 
explain the«process of cognition, and communicate to others the knowl- 
edge attained. 

g. Thus rhetoric, as it consists in clearness of statement, communi- 
cates knowledge by means of the syllogism. But rhetoric also consists 
in convincing ; hence it accumulates arguments, and presents considera- 
tions of truth, advantage, pleasure, and duty, and addresses them to the 
reason, the conscience, and the heart. The reason rhetorizes, in the 
communication of knowledge. 

h. The office of rhetoric is to state truth clearly, and convincingly, 
and elegantly, and so as both to produce conviction and to persuade. 
In order to do this it must make clear definitions, and concise major 
propositions. Then it must accurately state its minor term and draw its 
conclusion in the same words. This gives rhetorical clearness and 
force, makes the position strong and commanding. 

i. Then the position may be further strengthened by representation 
of fitness, advantage, and duty, and all these points may bo illustrated, 
enforced, and augmented in their value, in their importance, and in the 
obligation which .they impose, by comparison, analogies, anecdotes, 
metaphors, tropes, and other figures ; and thus the rhetorizing may go 
on accumulating strength, beauty, persuasiveness, and force, until the 
point is gained. Choice words, elegant sentences, bold figures, apt 
illustrations, telling anecdotes, and striking analogies and metaphors, a 
clear, flexible, and strong voice, a becoming manner in attitude, gesticu- 
lation, expression of countenance, and general bearing, — all combine to 
convince, conyict, persuade, and carry the hearer to the point proposed. 

j. Rhetoric uses argument, analogy, metaphor, anecdote, apostrophe, 
dramatic representation, and personification, and all things in writing 
and in speech, :to carry its point. It can be argumentative or poetical, 
imaginative or plain-spoken, impassioned or calm, and in all, and by all, 
seek the end of convincing and persuading to a conclusion. Now, this 
is not the work of logic, but of rhetoric ; not of thinking, so much as of 
communicating thought ; not of informing ourselves, but of informing 
others. In doing this the rhetorician may use all the forms of logic, and 
all the formulas of mathematics, all the processes of science, all the 
numbers of arithmetic, and all the facts of statistics, all the imagery and 
all the rhythm of poetry, as well as all the inventions of fiction, tragic, 
comic, or historic ; he may use narration or declamation, description or 
mere inventory, as his purpose requires. 

k. Thus rhetoric is both writing and speaking, discussion and oratory ; 
and it may draw all things unto itself, and subsidize all things to its 



TIIE INTELLECT. 563 

own end. Logic, science, mathematics, history, poetry, fiction, and the 
drama, — it becomes them all, and all become it by turns, in such a way 
as to reach its ends, viz., a conviction of the truth of .its positions, and 
a persuasion to accept and undertake them. It here appears not only 
how formal logic and rhetoric blend and become identical, but how all 
other forms of expressing thought run into and become a part of 
rhetoric. Yet rhetoric, it must be remembered, is not the act or art of 
finding out truth, but of expressing and communicating it, with clear- 
ness, force, and persuasiveness. 

1. Logic gives it clearness of statement ; principles give it force ; 
facts give certainty ; analogies give practical illustrations ; metaphors 
give strong light and shade; poetry gives beauty; tragedy gives pathos, 
and comedy humor and ridicule ; intonation and action give a vivid and 
life-like reality to the whole subject-matter which is passing before the 
reader, or auditor, as may be. A skilful rhetorician is thus master of all 
things, and controls his reader or hearer by the dexterous use and arrange- 
ment,, setting and putting, and shifting and combining, marshalling and 
disposing, and deploying of all these forces. 

m. Yet the object of the rhetorician, in all this, is not to make argu- 
ments, logic, ecience, poetry, or fiction, but so to use them as to con- 
vince, persuade, and carry those whom he addresses. So far as this, 
logic is rhetoric, and rhetoric logic ; and so far as this, rhetoric is poetry 
and science, and poetry and science are rhetoric ; and.no further. 

SECT. IV. THE REASON THEORIZES. 

a. To theorize is to make a theory, and then to arrange and dispose- 
of facts according to our assumed hypothesis ; as, for instance, the solar 
system accounts for the motion of the planets, on the assumption,, or 
theory, that the sun is the centre of the system around which they all 
revolve ; while the Ptolemaic theory attempted to account for the same 
facts by taking the earth as the centre. There are also theories of gov- 
ernment, theories of theology, theories of social and political economy, 
theories of philosophy, of mental, moral, intellectual, and ontological 
science. 

6. Now, as the reason has a tendency to cognize, and ratiocinate, and 
rhetorize, so has it a tendency to theorize ; and indeed, as logic is a 
species of cognition, so is theorizing a species of logic ; hence by theo- 
rizing, knowledge may be attained. If we have hit a true theory, it may 
not only explain existing facts, but also foretell coming facts. Hence 
science is sometimes called prophetic ; for instance, some theory of poli- 
tics points out success if pursued, and disaster if neglected : if the 



564 AUTOLOGY. 

theory is true the disaster comes when it is violated, and success and 
prosperity when it is lived up to. 

c. So astronomical theories may affirm the existence of planets as 
yet undiscovered, which, if the theory be true, may afterwards be dis- 
covered, as has been the case. This tendency of the reason to theorize 
is called speculation ; it becomes hurtful only when it cuts loose from 
facts and ascertained principles ; but in its nature it is the very plethory 
and prodigality of rational power, by which all progress is made. 

d. When regulated by facts, it is the all-comprehending reason, soar- 
ing above them and viewing them from the eternal and beaven-piercing 
heights of first principles, and taking their bearings in relation to them 
and to all truths as one whole. Thus men theorize of man, and God, 
and nature, of time and eternity, and their relations ; and if it be 
honestly, faithfully, and humbly done, ever adhering to facts, it will 
always result in the furtherance of knowledge, of reverence, and of 
moral elevation. 

e. It is only when the reason cuts loose from the moorings of fact 
that it drifts away on dangerous and uncertain seas, amidst rocks, storms, 
breakers, and quicksands ; but anchored to the shore of fact, however 
high above it, or to the bottom of reality, however deep below it, or 
held hj the true and steady needle of experiment to the star of truth in 
the heavens, the proudest and loftiest ship of speculation will outride 
the stormiest sea, and make its way in safety over any shoal, through 
any breakers, or betwixt any Scylla and Charybdis, in the universe of 
knowledge. 

/. This is the operation of the reason which the Germans, especially 
Fichte, Schelliug, and Hegel, call pure logic. It is the region upon 
which they enter, and, trusting to 'the laws of thought alone, frame an 
ideal universe ; and having Completed the whole theory as a matter of 
pure thought, they then call that thought a force, and its processes the 
operations of that force producing nature ; and thus they pass from 
what they call logic to natural philosophy. The processes of logic are 
made to be forces of nature, working as causes, producing all the forms 
of nature, geological, and chemical, and crystalline, and all the modes 
of vegetable, animal, and rational life. 

g. This logical process, or theory, which is mere thought becoming a 
force, or, rather, many forces, produces, first nature, with all its forms, 
modes, and varieties. Then, having gone its length, and spent its expan- 
sive power, and reached the limits of nature, it turns back upon itself, 
in order to go back from the nature, which it has made to become mere 
thought and pure logic again, as it was in the beginning. But in this 
act of turning back upon itself, it becomes self-conscious, and in this it 
produces man, or the rational spirit, as its highest product ; produced in 



THE INTELLECT. 5G5 

the act of turning' back from its last. expansion into nature, and in the 
very act of becoming again pure thought, or a logical process, as it was 
at the first. 

h. Just as the sap of a tree, rising from the root, flows upward, pro- 
ducing wood, bark, limbs, leaves, and buds, at last blossoms out and 
becomes fruit, and then turns back again to the root, so pure thought, 
becoming force, rises up through all the live forms of nature, and vege- 
table and animal life, until at last it blossoms out and becomes fruit as 
man, and in so doing becomes mere thought again, as it was at the first. 
Of course this thought is spirit life and force all the while, and ac- 
cording to them, God all the while; i. c., all the God they believe in — 
which is no God at all, but a mere force of nature, in which all individu- 
ality, and personality, and liberty are lost in one all-absorbing atheism. 

,i. And this process gives, according to them, the three departments 
of logic, natural philosophy, and the philosophy of spirit ; and this 
spirit is the laws and forces of nature, is man and God. All is,, at first, 
a mere logical process; that process is then found to be force producing 
nature; and having done this and turning back to itself, it comes to 
itself in self-consciousness ; and thus are man and God the sum total of 
all the human spirits, and the forces in nature, and the logical process 
lying back of all, and to which all returns. And this oscillation of 
" SftcfjtS, \rcrben, fettt," and " ©eirt, toerben, nid)t3/' nothing, becoming, be- 
ing, and being, departing, nothing, — this eternal passing from nothing 
to something, and from something to nothing, — this is being, this is 
the universe, this is God, man, and nature, in one whole, indivisible and 
the same. 

j. Now, this is a specimen of what theorizing is, and of this high and 
glorious capability of the reason, and also of the utter extravagance, 
falseness, and fantasticalness of its speculations when they are cut loose 
from fact and experiment, from the cognition of sense and reason, 
anchored to the facts of consciousness which are alone true and reliable. 
Valid theorizing is like that of Newton, whose reason, on seeing an apple 
fall from a tree to the earth, conceived at once the great law of gravita- 
tion ; viz., that all bodies attract in direct proportion to their quantity, 
and in the inverse ratio of the squares of their distances ; and with 
this theory all facts in the universe are found, to agree, and to be ac- 
counted for. 

SECT. V. THE REASON INVENTS. 

a. Ratiocination and theorizing, applied to motive power, locomotion, 
navigation, mechanical force, reaping, cultivating, planting, spinning, 
weaving, printing, sewing, or to any kind of mechanical instrument, 



566 AUTOLOGY. 

will result in some sort of invention or improvement, as the steam 
engine, the printing press, the magnetic needle, railroads, steamboats, 
cotton and woollen factories, sewing machines, and the like, which in- 
ventions are to be shown practicable or impracticable by experiment. 

b. The steamboat was a theory at first, but when it was put to the 
test of experiment and practice, it was found to be a true, and real, and 
valid invention, useful and profitable. The printing press, was in the 
first instance, thought out, as a mere theory ; but when tested by ex- 
periment, it was found to be a real invention, that is, a real thing found. 
The railroad was a theory, the telegraph was a theory ; but both have 
been demonstrated to be real and practical inventions, by actual experi- 
ment and use ; and so all the thousand upon thousand of machines and 
instruments in all the practical and every-day arts of life. 

c. All invention proceeds on the same principle that a theory does ; it 
is a theory until proved by experiment, and then it becomes an inven- 
tion. At first it may be imperfect, and it may afterwards be improved. 
And the difference between an improvement and an invention is often so 
indistinct, that an adept is employed by the government to examine all 
claimed inventions, and to ascertain whether they are, in fact, a new 
principle or theory, or only a modification of an old one ; hence the law 
of patents, and protection and encouragement of the government to in- 
ventors, by granting patent rights. 

d. Invention is stimulated by necessity, in so much that we have the 
proverb, " Necessity is the mother of invention." The advantages of 
the pressure of necessity are twofold ; in the first instance, it impels to 
the application and employment of any expedient or theory which we 
ma}' have lying idly in our brain ; and secondly, it compels us to ad- 
here closely to facts and to practical results, as they appear from actual 
experiment. For if a theory, or supposed invention, does not work, if 
it does not do the thing, we of necessity throw it aside, no matter how 
complete in theory or form ; and if it does do the thing we want, under 
the circumstances in which .we want it, then we retain and use it, no 
matter how illogical the theory, or how uncouth and bungling the form 
of the machine. Hence, truly, is necessity both the parent and guardian 
of invention. 

e. We, perhaps, have no instance illustrating this more fully and 
strikingly than the events of the late war with the rebels, and espe- 
cially the invention of the gunboats' called " Monitors." Necessity 
impelled thereto, and stern experiment vindicated the theory on which 
they were made, and established them as a most essential and potent 
invention. 

f. Nor is there any limit assignable to human invention. All the 
elements of nature will yet be subjected to man's will. As invention 



THE INTELLECT. 567 

increases and its instruments multiply in numbers and facility, one ob- 
stacle after another in nature will be removed, and man will appropriate 
one force, production, and element after another to his own use, until 
the* ; whole universe shall be subject to him, and contribute to his well- 
being, and he shall be master and lord of it all. It is no longer credu- 
lity to believe anything practicable to human invention; doubters have 
now become the credulous class. 

g. This is the physical millennium for which all inventors, scientists, 
and economists are looking, and in which human genius and wit shall 
have their highest development ; not in works of theory or art, of 
poetry, or painting, or philosophy, or letters, but in practical and me- 
chanical invention and useful arts. It shall be a millennium of actual 
knowledge, power, and skill, by which and in which man is to attain 
his highest glory. 

h. Surely all good men feel that everything that gives man ascen- 
dency over nature is a great good ; but no one who knows the human 
heart will for a moment think that a physical civilization is alone man's 
highest state; but rather that in the rudest forms of life and in the 
lowest state of the arts, there may be the highest virtue not only, but 
the highest Christian faith, and the purest form of* well-being. Physical 
improvements certainly help, and do not hinder, moral and religious im- 
provement ; but certainly they can never cure human selfishness, nor 
save the world, nor supersede the necessity and power of grace and the 
truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. 

We have now arrived at the point where the operations of the reason 
come under the third set of affections, viz., the sesthetical. Here the 
operations of the reason are in correspondence with the following affec- 
tions of the heart, to wit., playful imitativeness, ideal rcproductiveness, 
ideal enhanciveness, ideal perfectivencss, fanciful or sportive depreciative- 
ness. These susceptibilities are in direct correlation with the reason's 
operations of imagining, embodying, enhancing, perfecting, and depre- 
ciating; and they act upon each other reciprocally. 

A. Imagining distinguished from other operations of the reason. 

a. As in logic the reason shows the' nature of things, or the nat- 
ural and dynamical relation of things, and as in theorizing it shows 
also the same relations, only more fully and symmetrically, and rather 
as a unity, entirety, and harmonious whole, than as a logical and prac- 
tical sequence, so in imagining it gives the sensuous form of things. 
The logic is the jointed, tenoned, and mortised bones. The theory wires 
and frames them together into a skeleton, and supplies them with 



568 AUTOLOGY. 

nervous and vital systems, while the imagination puts on flesh, skin, 
color and expression, motion and life. It is the same reason that cog- 
nizes, theorizes, invents, and imagines ; and these operations are all 
homogeneous. r 

b. The reason, by imagining, gives the completed and sensuous form 
of any conceived object as it meets the senses, particularly the eye. 
But in these operations the transition from cognizing to ratiocinating, 
and from ratiocinating to rhetorizing, and from rhetorizing to theorizing, 
and from theorizing to inventing, and from inventing to imagining, is 
so natural and so gradual, and the operations partake so mnch of each 
other, and run into and blend with each other so much, that the lines of 
division between them are often rendered so indistinct as to make it 
difficult to tell what is cognition and what ratiocination, what is ratioci- 
nation and what rhetoric, what is rhetorizing and what theorizing, what 
is theorizing and what inventing, what is inventing and what imagin- 
ing ; but this not only does not do away with the differences, but makes 
the distinction the more necessary, and shows that they are all opera- 
tions of the same single faculty, the reason. 

c. It is because, this faculty performs all these operations, and each 
operation includes something of all the rest, that they run together, and 
the one helps the other. We have seen that the same reason cognizes, 
conceives, remembers, classifies, ratiocinates, rhetorizes, theorizes, in- 
vents, and now imagines ; and we find that it mingles somewhat of each 
of the operations in each and all of the rest. With this remark we 
now take up the operation of the reason in imagining. 

d. Imagining differs from conceiving in that conceiving simply 
grasps the characteristics of its object, whether they be rational or sen- 
suous, and if sensuous, whether simply numerical and statistical, or hav- 
ing extension and figure ; while imagining always has an image, or 
form, figure, feature, and proportions. 

e. In a similar way does imagining differ from theorizing. In theo- 
rizing, only relations, proportions, and combinations are given from 
some central force or stand-point which is assumed ; while in imagining, 
the bodily shajDe and sensuous presence of the objects.are given. 

/. So also in regard to inventing : while in it, as in all the other op- 
erations, there is more or less of imagining, yet inventing is the finding 
of a force, or the combining of a force, according to mathematical and 
mechanical principles, while imagining gives the form of an ideal ob- 
ject as perfect and complete in all its appearance and sensuous pro- 
portions. 

g. Thus in imagining the reason performs a distinct office ; it deals 
with sensuous forms, while the other operations of the reasou deal more 
with principles and relations. If in ratiocinating the reason is an anat- 



THE INTELLECT. 569 

omist and a mechanic, and' in rhetorizing it is a field-marshal, then in 
imagining it is a painter and a sculptor, and a dramatist. If in the case 
of ratiocinating it prepares the timbers and puts together the framework 
of the world, in the case of imagining it comes with earth and soil, and 
grass and trees, and fruits and flowers, making it beautiful with lawns 
and streams, mountains and seas, and cheerful with all forms of animal, 
and rational, and social life. 

h. Thus in imagining the reason does that which it does in no other 
operation ; and while it does, this, it is still bound, guided, and swayed 
by all the laws and limits of the operations of cognizing, ratiocinating, 
and theorizing. It must clothe in sensuous forms and bodily appear- 
ances only that which is logically framed and theoretically symmetrical, 
or it will fall into the grotesque and the fanciful. 

i. Precisely here is the difference between imagination and fancy : im- 
agination, while it rises above them, is yet bound by the laws of logical and 
theoretical relations and proportions, as these themselves are by facts in 
the nature of things, and is gauged by them as a pencil in marking a circle, 
or an ellipse is controlled by the line that connects it with its focus of the 
one or the foci of the other ; while fancy is entirely cut loose from all 
restraint or law of logic, symmetry, or fitness. In imagining, therefore, 
the reason is as logical as in ratiocinating ; and although it makes no 
statement of argument or of syllogism, yet it obeys both of them by an 
inward and unconscious law of harmonious life, which governs all' its 
actions. 

j. Imagination is thus, really and truly, the highest form of rational 
knowing. As the completed body, with its flesh and blood, and bodily 
sense, with living countenance and radiant eye, and form erect and 
brow sublime, all instinct and speaking with the living soul which God 
breathed into it, contains in its complete self all that is contained in the 
skeleton, in the vital system, -in the nerves, the muscles, the veins, and 
the brain, so does the reason in imagining include and bring into one 
comprehensive and complete knowing all the mental operations that 
have gone before it. All the preceding operations are more or. less 
elementary, anatomical, analytical, and statistical, while this is con- 
cretely a whole and completely a unity. 

k. And here we see the truthfulness of Shakspeare's climax, when 
he says, " What a piece of work is man ! how infinite in faculties, in 
action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a God ! " Appre- 
hension here means imagination, the highest and completest form of 
knowing, in which both the rational and the sensuous are combined in 
their loftiest and completest forms. Here the mind becomes again a unit 
in its action, and culminates in the perfect combination of all its facul- 
ties and all its operations, in one last, highest, completest, and most 
12 



570 .AUTOLOGY. 

perfect knowing 1 . For this reason aesthetics* stand above logic, poetry is 
above philosophy, and art rises above all science, in the appreciation of 
the human mind in'all a°:es of the world. 



SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. 

B. The Reason embodies. 

Having ascertained what imagining is, as distinguished from other 
operations of the reason, we now come to lpok after some of the specific 
offices. Of these we find the following : 1st. The Eeason imagines 
real forms. 2d. The Reason imagines ideal creations. These we shall 
now proceed to examine in their various uses and manifestations. 

a. The reason, in imagining, embodies, gives body to the products 
of all the preceding operations of the mind. In perceiving and cogniz- 
ing the reason has the body of that which it cognizes presented to it in 
the operations of the senses ; but in the other operations it has no direct 
help from the senses, though it always requires this help in every case, 
in some form. The work of imagining is, therefore, to give the sensu- 
ous appearance, body, or figure, to the products of the other operations 
of the mind. In doing this, it gives in the first instance real images or 
forms. 

b. As when the reason forms a conception of a before-known but 
absent object by grouping its characteristics, or when, the characteris- 
tics being supplied of an object never seen, it forms a conception of it, 
then, by imagining, the reason gives the completest image of such 
object. The conception is onlj'' a discrete grouping of characteristics, 
while imagining gives a concrete image of the embodied whole in one 
living- form. 

c. So also in the conception which the reason forms by classifying 
objects according to some one or more characteristics found in each. 
After it has, by abstraction, selected the mark or marks in each indi- 
vidual, and by generalization brought many under it as the identifying 
feature of them all, then the reason, having thus formed a conception of 
a class, order, or genus of objects, by imagining gives a concrete image, 
unity, and body to that conception of genus, order, or class ; and it 
stands before the mind as a distinct and valid individuality, although 
it has no existence as the combination or ideal of a class, order, or 
genus, save in the reason that formed it. Its only real existence is in 
the several individuals which are classified under it. 

d. Here we fall upon the old dispute between the nominalists and the 
realists ; the former denying, as has here been done, that there can be 
any real and actual embodiment of the conception of a class, and claim- 
ing that only the individuals in the class are individually embodied, that 



THE INTELLECT. 571 

body is individual in its nature, and not general. On the other hand, 
the realists claim that the conception under which a class of individual 
objects is generalized is also a real object, and has an actual and em- 
' bodied existence. This controversy, which, as a speculative question, 
divided the schools, and kept them long in violent contention, and that 
only because it was carried on as a speculative, and not as a practical 
question, might have been speedily ended by a simple question of fact, 
and by calling on the realists to produce their individual, their real and 
embodied, form of a general conception. 

e. Passing from conceiving, we find that when we take up the opera- 
tions of remembering, the body or image of the object is given, in like 
manner, by imagining. Although the act of remembering never takes 
place except when the sensuous sign or figure of the fact that we have 
known the object before is brought in contact with the conception of the 
object, and of the fact that we have seen the object before, already in 
the mind,- yet this gives the remembrance of the conception of the 
object, and of the fact that we have seen it ; while the image, figure, 
and body of it are given to this remembered conception, by imagining. 

f. So also with regard to the operation of ratiocinating ; if a result 
or product is reached by the operation of ratiocinating, that result is 
embodied, so far as its nature admits of a body, by imagining. The 
real thing or force meant in the major premise, and the real thing stated 
in the minor premise, and the real result found in the conclusion, — that 
is, the real thing defined and expressed in the words of the several parts 
of the syllogism, — have thus form given them, when they are capable of 
it, by imagining ; as in the syllogism, " All men are mortal ; Cicero is a 
man ; therefore Cicero is mortal." When these statements are made, the 
reason, by imagining, gives the appropriate body or image to that ex- 
pressed in each. 

g. Again, when the reason rhetorizes, — that is, expresses in words 
clearly and persuadingly that which is meant in the cognizing, or ratio- 
cinating, or any other operation (for this is the office of rhetoric), — then, 
by imagining, are the image and body of the product of these operations 
given. 

h. And when the reason theorizes, and thus puts in its own place 
each and every bone in the skeleton, and wires them together, and sup- 
plies the nervous and muscular, and nutritive and other systems, then, 
must the imagination put on the soft covering of flesh, skin, color, com- 
plexion, expression, action, and bearing, which constitute the living 
image. 

i. When also the reason invents by bringing all the foregoing theories, 
and ratiocinatings, and conceptions to a single result, then that thing 
found, being, of course, a mere force, a dynamical relation must be 



5*2 . AUTOLOGY. 

embodied. It is the act of imagining that gives the figure or image of 
the thing, while it is the act -of inventing that finds the inner force that 
is the real thing, which thing is demonstrated as practical by being 
wrought into a machine in appropriate materials ; and then by being 
put into operation. When complete the machine mUst perform and do 
the thing for which it was invented and made, in order to be valid and 
real. 

j. Thus have we applied the imagination to the operations of the rea- 
son which precede it ; and we find^that, so far, its office is to give body, 
image, or sensuous form to the product of some of the other operations 
of the mind. In this it reproduces forms, and scenes, and actions as they 
either have or might have occurred. 

SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. 

C. The reason imagines ideal creations, or idealizes. 

a. In ideal creations, first, the reason imagines ideal reproductions of 
the real ; second, the reason imagines enhanced ideal reproductions of 
the real ; third, the reason imagines perfected and beautified ideal repro- 
ductions of the real ; fourth, the reason fancies playful and censorious 
depreciation of all things, both ideal and real. 

b. In the first of these cases reason gives ideal reproductions or 
imitations of the real, whose excellence consists in their conformity and 
truthfulness to real life. In the second, the reason gives ideal enhan- 
cings of the ideal reproductions of the real, which carry them up to the 
lofty and sublime. In the third place, the reason carries up and perfects 
the ideal reproductions of the real not only, but that which, by ideal en- 
hancing, has been made sublime, it carries up to the beautiful. 

c. There are things in nature which are only real, others which are 
both real and sublime, and still others which are real and more than real, 
sublime and more than sublime ; they are real and beautiful ; for beauty 
overpowers sublimity, and conforms it to its own ideal, and its own figure, 
and features, and image. But the highest sublimity of nature is found, 
not in actual and sensuous forms, but in the ideals which the reason 
moulds on seeing nature ; and hence the highest sublimity and the high- 
est beauty are created when the reason, seeing the real, imagines the 
ideal. The highest sublimity is that ideal image which the reason im- 
agines when it sees something of the actual which is sublime ; and the 
highest beauty is that which the reason imagines when it sees something 
of real beauty. The sublime is the quantity overpowering the mould ; 
the beautiful is the mould comprehending the quantity, and conforming 
it to itself. 

d. In the fourth place the reason fancies sportive and derisive depre- 



THE INTELLECT. 573 

ciations of the real ; the former is wit, the latter is sarcasm. They are 
both works of the reason when fancying, and not when imagining ; for 
they seek not the perfect, but the imperfect ; failure, and not success ; 
deformity, and not beauty. 

SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. 

D. The reason imagines ideal reproductions of the real. 

a. By this operation the reason reproduces in romance, in poetry, in 
painting, in sculpture," and in the drama, the real things which are their 
subjects severally, but in a heightened and more perfect form ; at least, 
the true artist will select the best view or appearance of his subject, 
and give that which will, of course, be superior to the ordinary views 
of the real. 

b. This reproduction is called ideal, because it is the work of the 
reason which imagines it, and is done often in the absence of the real 
object, and evolved by the imagination from the principles of symmetry 
and unity as they relate to the objects before us respectively. Thus 
Scott imagines the Waverley. Novels ; Milton, Paradise Lost ; Rubens, 
the Descent from the Gross; Powers, the Greek Slave; Shakspeare, 
the Play of Hamlet ; and in each of these cases, the real is' reproduced 
according to the different arts respectively, by the reason's imagining, 
in each, the forms and actions, scenes and characters, before us, and 
with which they have respectively to do. 

c. And here we come upon a most important distinction, viz., that 
between cognizing and imagining; i. e., the operation of the reason in 
cognizing a real external object by means of an idea and a sensuous per- 
ception, and the operation of the same reason in imagining an ideal 
creation. In the case of cognizing, the reason has its idea or concep- 
tion within itself, and applies it to the external object brought before it 
by the senses, and in this way cognizes 'it. On the contrary, in imagin- 
ing, the reason has no idea within itself, but cognizing the external ob- 
ject in the usual way in the first instance, it then imagines, and by im- 
agining transmutes that form into ideal proportions and perfectness. 
It creates thus the ideal upon the real, after the real is cognized. 

d. Here we may raise the question as to what is the difference be- 
tween an idea and an ideal. What an idea is, and how it is obtained, 
we have already very fully set forth in the chapter on the formation of 
original ideas from the primary facts of consciousness. An idea is a 
delimitized fact, or a delimitized conception ; i. e., an idea is that which 
is necessary and universal, as the idea of substance, cause, quality ; 
and these ideas, as- we have shown, are formed from the facts of con- 
sciousness, and when formed and in the possession of the mind,. they 



5*4 - AUTOLOGY. 

constitute the language of the soul into which it translates the facts of 
the external world, when they are brought before it by the senses. 

e. On the contrary, ideals are the completed images of things already 
known, formed by the reason from facts already cognized, by an act of 
the transforming imagination. The reason, in forming an idea, strips 
the fact from which it forms it of all its peculiarities, and retains only 
that which is universal and necessary, while on the other hand, in form- 
ing an ideal, it adds to the fact every accessory and peculiarity by which 
it can be completed and perfected. An ideal, therefore, is individual, and 
singular, and peculiar, while an idea is universal and necessary.* The 
former relates to form, the latter to essence ; the one to knowledge, the 
other to beauty. 

/. If, then, it be asked, Whence does the mind derive its ideals? 
the reply is, that it does not derive them, but creates them. Are they 
in the mind as a part of its original furniture ? No ; the capability of 
making ideals, as of forming ideas, is man's original inheritance, but 
not the ideals or the ideas themselves. As has already appeared, the 
reason forms its ideas from facts of consciousness ; so also it forms its 
ideals from external facts. It can find its original ideas, formed from 
the facts of consciousness, embodied in external objects, but its ideals 
can never be found in any external object. 

g. Hence an idea is cognitive, while an ideal is perfective. A cogni- 
tive idea may be in the mind as a means of cognizing. a real object, but 
an ideal of an- object can never be in the mind until the object is itself 
first cognized ; then the reason may create the ideal by imagining it as 
a transfiguration of the real. 

h. Is it asked, How does the reason imagine an ideal ? we reply, - 
that it imagines an ideal by placing itself at the natural centre of the 
object to be idealized, and there so identifying itself with it as to 
send out its imaginings according to the nature and laws of the thing it 
thus possesses ; and the lino that circumscribes the limits of these ima- 
ginings so sent out, encloses the object, and gives to it its form in pro- 
portions and figure harmonious with that individual and central nature, 
from the centre of which, and according to the laws of which, the rea- 
son imagines. 

i. The reason at once, when possessed of the central principle, by a 
natural law of harmonious intelligence, imagines the complete form of 
the whole object. This is forming or imagining an ideal. Fancying, we 
shall find, is very different : it takes the centre, to be sure, of an object, 
but it forms upon it unhomogeneous and inharmonious parts and pro- 
portions. The imagination is concentric and harmonious, the fancy is 
eccentric and heterogeneous. 



THE INTELLECT. 575 

SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. 

E. The reason enhances. 

a. The reason imagines enhanced ideal- reproductions of the real ; or, 
the reason enhances, magnifies, and sublimes ideal images of the real : 
this is the sublime. The essence of sublimity lies in this, that the 
object rises above and overweighs the limits and proportions of itself, 
and shows a magnitude and power greater than its own perfection' re- 
quires. Thus the hero is sublime because he rises above that desire of 
self-preservation which is called the first law of nature ; he is too great 
for it. Mont Blanc is sublime, for our senses cannot grasp the whole of 
it, and we are overwhelmed with it. So of the boundless and fathomless 
ocean and sky. Thus that is sublime to us which is greater than our 
faculties can grasp. 

b. When the apostle says, " I saw a great white throne, and Him 
that sat thereon, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away," 
the sublimity lies in the inexpressibleness of the grandeur of the scene. 
The mind fails to comprehend it, and is overwhelmed with its vastness ; 
and thus is it sublime. 

c. We will not here further discuss the sublime, or rather the rea- 
son's operations of enhancing, but will pass to the operation of beauti- 
fying or perfecting; and then, in contrasting the one with the other, and 
in discriminating the one from the other, we shall more clearly and con- 
cisely define and set forth both the sublime and the beautiful, or, rather, 
the operations of the reason in enhancing and perfecting, or in subliming 
and beautifying. 

SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. . 

F. The reason beautifies or perfects. 

a. The reason imagines perfected and beautified ideal reproductions 
of the real ; or, the reason perfects and beautifies ideal images of the 
real : this is the beautiful. In producing the beautiful, the reason im- 
agines all the material subordinated to its ideal, or compressed within 
its model, and that its model is full. 

b. If the question be raised, as it often is, Where does the reason get 
its model ? it may be replied, that it gets the model precisely where it 
finds the material to fill it. Then, and thus, it produces its model by 
its own creative power, the perfect model of beauty. The perfectness 
of the reason's ideal is the outgoing of its rays of comprehending intelli- 
gence from its own centre, in symmetry with itself as a centre, and in 
harmony with one another as a whole. This gives a perfect rational soul. 
Here the reason gets its first ideal of a perfect rational soul, and hero it 
learns how, when any object comes before it, to place itself at its centre, 



576 AUTOLOGY. 

and throw out its rays from thence, until their varied limits give the out- 
line of the highest perfectness and beauty of that thing. 

c\ This is the beautiful in all things. It has no one real object, but 
is evolved from each object when the reason enters it and takes posses- 
sion of its centre as its own throne of intelligence, and sends out its 
ra} r s in varied lengths, colors, and temperatures, in a symmetry and in a 
proportion controlled by the central force. Accordingly all things are 
beautiful just in proportion as they conform to the central force of their 
own being. 

d. The solar system is beautiful because it is controlled by the central 
law of gravity. A flower is beautiful just as it fulfils the law of its 
own growth. .If the law has been impeded, the flower is not beautiful. 
So a human being is the highest form of beauty, if that being be a pure, 
intelligent, and loving soul ; and this purity, intelligence, and love have, 
like a quickening spirit, become completely embodied in a human form. 
A body, male or female, in which the whole soul, in its strength and 
grace, its reason and heart, its conscience and will, is embodied fitly 
and homogeneously, is the perfection of human beauty : this is true 
beaut}''. 

e. That, however, that is truly beautiful, may not please us ; for we 
may have selfish and sensual, contracted and monstrous notions of the 
beautiful, and thus be pleased with that which is deformed and ugly, 
and displeased with that which is in symmetry with the laws of its own 
nature. The statue of the Apollo Belvedere is a specimen of manly beauty, 
because it is conformed to the model which the reason evolved from the 
centre of what constitutes a perfect manhood. So the statue of the 
Venus de' Mcdicis is a model of a perfect woman, because it also is 
conformed to the model which the reason has evolved from the centre 
of what constitutes a perfect womanhood, and that in harmony with, 
and in embodiment of, the forces which give a perfect womanhood. 

/. Reason thus forms the ideal of the beautiful, just as it forms any 
idea from the facts of its own being. The beautiful, as it relates to hu- 
manity, is a fact, the reason's own ideal of itself as a rational soul, and 
itself embodied in that ideal. The reason forms the ideal of the perfect 
of any particular thing from the thing itself in an imperfect state ; for 
all things are imperfect as they are found in nature. 

g. And here we come upon the old question again of the nominalists 
and realists ; viz., " Is there any such thing in actual being as the em- 
bodiment of a general conception or ideal of the beautiful ? ■■' We 
have -already seen that there is no such thing as an embodiment of the 
conception of a class, order, or genus. Just so there is no such thing 
as any embodiment anywhere of the one highest ideal of the beautiful ; 
for beauty is always individual and peculiar, and not general. The 



THE INTELLECT. 571 

concer ion of man as a race has no real existence apart from the indi- 
viduals that make up the race of man ; it is only a conception in the 
mind to which the reason may imagine a fitting form ; but it is all con- 
ceptual and ideal, and not at all actual and real. 

h. Just so of beauty ; there is no embodiment of it as such anywhere, 
either individual or general. When pei-sons talk of the beautiful, if they 
speak intelligently, they mean the perfect in each individual of all kinds 
and classes, and not any generalized conception or ideal of any class, 
order, or genus, or of them all summed up in one whole ; for there is no 
such thing or being anywhere, any more than there is anywhere an 
actual embodiment of the conception of the genus homo as a whole. 

i. God is no such idea or ideal of the beautiful ; for all beauty is in 
its nature individual, and not general. And God is no summing up of 
the created beauties of the universe, but is an individual, peculiar and 
totally unlike all other beings in his self-existent and infinite nature. 
God, therefore, may be a beautiful God, but is not a beautiful anything 
else. He is not the beautiful nor the sublime, as such, but he is God, 
and as God has all the perfections of a God, and is a God sublime and 
beautiful ; but he is not the sublime nor the beautiful as such, fur there 
is neither in heaven nor earth, in God nor in man, any such thing ; but 
beauty is individual, and is created in relation to each individual thing 
by the reason which imagines it, acting from this central thought and 
force of the thing or object before it. 

j. The reason imagines beauty when any object is brought before it ; 
but beauty exists in its highest form nowhere else except in the mind, 
and there it exists not as an original ideal, but as an ideal created by 
the reason on its coming in contact with the real. The mind has neither 
original ideas nor original ideals ; but it has original powers of reason to 
form the one and create the other. It forms original ideas from the 
facts of consciousness by delimiting them ; that is, by taking away 
their peculiarities and reducing them t<S those properties which are uni- 
versal and necessary. And it creates ideals by adding to the facts of 
external nature all the peculiarities, accessories, and completions by 
which they may be made perfect. 

k. An idea is the universal and necessary truth which there is in all 
things. An ideal is the peculiar beauty and perfectness which there 
is in each particular thing. That is an idea which is both universal and 
necessary ; that is an ideal which is complete and perfect in peculiarity ; 
an idea is simply true — an ideal is more than true ; it is truthful ; i. e., 
it is beautiful. Moreover, an idea may be mere thought or force, but an 
ideal must of necessity have figure and appearance. 

I. Beauty may be represented in poetry and the drama ; in painting, 
and sculpture, and architecture. In all these forms may be expressed 
73 



518 AUTOLOGY. 

that which in men's minds is held as highest and most excellent in any 
particular thing ; and that which men in all times do hold as most high 
and most excellent in all or any of these forms of representation, that is 
called the beautiful. Beauty is the chief and highest excellence in all 
things expressed in fitting forms ; nor is it beauty until it does take 
form. Excellence in character or in action is virtue, even though appear- 
ing in loathsome forms and graceless movements ; but virtue is not 
beauty. 

m. Truth is excellent, but truth may be unfittingly and untruthfully 
told ; and hence, while it is true, it is not beautiful. A thing may be 
useful, adapted to its end ; but usefulness may consist with the greatest 
ugliness of figure and movement. A camel is certainly useful, but not 
even an Arab, whom he serves so well, placing him beside his own 
glorious charger of the desert, will, for a moment, call him beautiful. 
Truth to nature is not beauty, for a toad or an elephant is as true to 
nature as an eagle or a swan ; and a burdock or a bramble is surely as 
natural as a lily or a rose. 

n. Beaut} 7 lies in the completed form that represents an excellence ; 
and without the corresponding form there is no beauty. Beauty is pure 
representation ; hence it has no moral quality as such. It is in its own 
nature neither right nor wrong, pure nor impure, true nor false, virtuous 
nor vicious, useful nor useless : it is simply and purely beauty ; it is 
negative to all else. Beauty is not virtue ; for virtue lies in the 
essence, while beauty lies in the form. Beauty is not usefulness ; for 
usefulness lies in adaptedness to the end, while beauty lies, not in reach- 
ing the end, but in the mode or form of getting there. Beauty lies not 
in the true, but in the truthful, or the fitting form of truth. 

o. The beautiful differs also from the sublime. A thing may be sub- 
lime, but not beautiful, and the contrary ; for a certain magnitude and 
force are essential to the sublime, which are not essential to beauty ; yet 
the sublime is inferior to the beautiful, and only a fragment of it. The 
sublime is only the imperfectness of our perception of the beautiful. We 
see the beautiful but partly, and, of course, disproportionally ; and it is this 
imperfectness of our perception of the beautiful which we call sublime. 
Sublimity is only that shadow which beauty casts too deep and too high 
for us to see beyond, and in the midst of which we fear and tremble as 
in the presence of the dread unknown. 

p. As a traveller in the gorges of the Alps, passing through some 
deep and narrow defile immediately under the impending and precipitous 
heights of Mont Blanc, that pierce the heavens above, while they shut 
him in the dark shadows below, feels', as they tower in light on high 
and penetrate the deep centre of the earth beneath, how awful is 



THE INTELLECT. 5T9 

their magnitude, their majesty, and their power, and thus beholds the 
sublime. 

q. So also when he passes out, and, making a circuit, comes round 
and gains some distant and favoring summit, where the eye at one 
glance sweeps the vast mountain from its low basis in the vale below, to 
its high, bright, and snowy face in the pure sky above, shining all divine 
in heaven's own light ; then he beholds, not the sublime alone, but the 
beautiful ; not the fragment of the .mount frowning over him, but the 
completed whole; and as a whole so great that sublimity is swallowed 
up in beauty ; for here the vastness of bulk is lost in the symmetry of 
proportion, and the tearfulness of height is subdued into the loveliness 
of feature, the terribleness of strength into the gracefulness of figure, 
and the awfulness of sublimity into the divineness of beauty. The com- 
pleted whole, then, is more than sublime ; it is beautiful. A sublime 
thing is always an imperfect thing, a fragmentary thing. A beautiful 
object is always perfect and complete. Of a sublime object we never 
see but a part ; of a beautiful thing we always see or take in the whole. 

r. Such is beauty, and such is sublimit} 7 ; the latter is only a fragment 
of the former ; for a high ideal of perfectness always circumscribes the 
sublime to which it must be raised. If the sublime rises above a beauty 
of smaller proportions, and is made sublime by so doing, so also does 
beauty regain its ascendency, by creating and asserting an ideal that 
rises above all possible sublimity, and unto which all must ultimately be 
subdued and conformed. This beauty is the highest form of art, and 
the highest form of art is the embodiment of beauty. 

SECT. VI. THE REASON IMAGINES. 

G. The reason depreciates. 

a. The reason fancies sportive and malign depreciations of all things — - 
both real and ideal. When the reason fancies sportive depreciations of 
anything, we call it wit or humor. When it fancies malign deprecia- 
tions of anything, we call it sarcasm. Now, these two things are the 
product of the reason, not in imagining, but in fancying. The differ- 
ence between the two we have already pointed out in the first section 
of this chapter. The imagination is always concentric, bound by the 
laws of nature, logic, and symmetry, while the fancy is eccentric, and is 
bound by nothing but its own eccentricity. Its whole power lies in de- 
preciation. It could have no occupation if there was nothing to depre- 
ciate ; hence it is a kind of laughing, mocking, and sneering devil in the 
universe of the mind, which delights in deforming fun and derisive 
mockery, in contemptuous depreciations, and utter and irreverent levity 
in regard to all things. 



580 AUTOLOGY. 

b. There are three manifestations of this fanciful depreciation. The 
first is wit proper, in which the reason plays for its own amusement, and 
for the sake of enjoying- the flash of its own wit. It fancies a deprecia- 
tion, and enjoys the exercise of it. As Portia, in the Merchant of Ven- 
ice, says of one of her suitors, in merry disparagement, "God made 
him ; therefore let him pass for a man." 

c. The .second form is the ludicrous, in which the reason fancies de- 
formities and all manner of grotesque things for the sake of the ludi- 
crousness of it, as when Dogberry is made to say, " that he were here 
to write me down an ass." It is ludicrous, and not witty, for this reason : 
the absurdity, and ridiculousness, and the monstrousness are the thing 
sought ; we laugh at it without reference to the person who is the sub- 
ject of it. Falstaff, thoroughly thwacked with clubs when disguised as 
an old woman, and afterwards thrown into the Thames with foul linen, 
on coming to himself at last, with the exclamation, " I have been made 
an ass of," is a case in which Ihe ludicrous is sought for its own sake. 

d. The third form of fanciful depreciation is sarcasm,- in which the 
reason fancies depreciation, disparity, and deformity intentionally, and 
with malign intent, seeking to wound and to destroy. This is done by all 
the "wicked arts of odious comparisons, detracting epithet, degrading 
metaphor, innuendo, double entendre, and all for the sake of wounding a 
rival or a foe. Byron says, in the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, 

" Yet none in lofty numbers can surpass 
The bard who soars to eulogize an ass ; 
So well the subject suits his noble mind : 
A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind." 

This is said of Coleridge, who had written Lines upon a Young Ass. 

e. These lines illustrate the nature of sarcasm. It is true it may 
sometimes be used as a weapon to strike down the foes of truth and 
the right ; but it is a two-edged sword, and may cut both ways, These 
forms of fanciful depreciation, as wit, humor, and sarcasm, appear in all 
forms of literature and art ; in the comedies of Shakspeare, and in the 
works of Pope, Butler, and Byron. The paintings of Hogarth illus- 
trate these several phases of this fanciful depreciation of all things. 

/. In the first of these manifestations the wit flashes out involuntarily 
in writing or conversation, and is a pure white light, brilliant and strik- 
ing, and, like the -lightning, doing its work and disappearing before we 
are fully conscious of its presence. We wake up to know how narrowly 
we have escaped, and how destructive an element has been near us. 
We admire, but we neither laugh nor love. The essence of wit is 
sportive depreciation for the sake of the wit, irrespective of its object. 

g. In the second form of this fanciful depreciation, we have humor 



THE INTELLECT. 581 

disporting itself, and amusing us with the ludicrous. It is, of course, 
the most mild of all these depreciations, because it enjoys simply the 
ludicrous, without reference to its author or object. It makes fun of 
our ignorance, our prejudices, and our conceits, and usually in the third 
person, so that all who hear are made merry at faults which they see in 
others, but which they have no consciousness of as belonging to them- 
selves. We laugh at such jokes, we laugh at ourselves for hearing 
them, we laugh at the person who makes himself a clown for our amuse- 
ment, and thus in the mildest form of wit all things are depreciated. 

h. The third kind is almost always premeditated, studied, intended, 
and malicious. It may sometimes serve the cause of truth by ampu- 
tating vice or slaying falsehood, yet, like other sharp tools, it is to be 
used with caution. 

i. We have thus passed over the whole of the aesthetical faculty. 
In Part Second of this work we examined the aesthetical affections, and 
found the same discriminations as here. We have now given the opera- 
tions of the reason in the field of aesthetics which correspond to the 
affections, and we are thus conducted at once by the combined influence 
of both to the field of art. We have seen that the reason imagines real 
forms in real life under the operations of ratiocinating, theorizing, and 
inventing ; that it gives form and living body to conceptions both of indi- 
viduals and classes ; and that then, rising above nature, it enters the field 
of art, and imagines, first, ideal reproductions of the real ; then, second, 
that it imagines ideal enhancings of the ideal reproductions of the real ; 
and third, that it imagines ideal perfectings of the enhanced ideal repro- 
ductions of the real ; and lastly, that it fancies playful and malign de- 
preciations of all things, both real and ideal. 

j. And thus have we before us all the forces of genius with which to 
enter the field of art. It may not, therefore, be impertinent here to 
inquire, What is genius ? and what is art ? as they both embody and 
illustrate so fully the aesthetical affections and the aesthetical operations 
of the reason. 

SECT. VI. THE EEASON IMAGINES. 

H. Genius and art. 

a. We have here examined the whole Eesthetical faculty as it is 
made up of the operations of the reason in imagining. In the preceding 
part of this work we ascertained what were the aesthetical affections ; 
and now the two combined constitute one whole faculty for aesthetical 
achievement ; and this brings us to two most prominent and important 
things which the preceding discussions enable us to analyze ; viz., genius 
and art. 

b. Although genius may do many things, yet art is its peculiar field. 



582 AUTOLOGY. 

Genius may invent a machine ; yet genius is an artist, and not an artisan. 
Genius may theorize ; yet genius loves rather to create the living forms, 
and cover them with flesh and skin, and fill them with the warm blood 
and breath of life, than simply to wire together the skeletons of theories. 
And so art is not mechanics. It may adorn a machine, that operates 
with crank and gudgeon, but does not construct the gearing, nor operate 
it when complete. Art deals only in the living forms and appearances 
of things, such as genius loves to imagine and to produce. 

c. ^Esthetics is the proper field of genius, and we have seen that the 
sesthetical faculty is made up of both sensibilities and intellect, of the 
sesthetical susceptibilities and the assthetical capabilities ; that is, the 
affections and the reason. We have the affections, which are, first, a 
disposition to playful imitativeness ; second, a disposition to ideal crea- 
tiveness ; and third, a disposition to fanciful depreciation, both sportive 
and malign : then we have the reason operations in which the reason 
imagines, first, real forms ; 'and secondly, ideal creations. Then, in ideal 
creations, the reason imagines, first, ideal reproductions of the real ; 
second, the reason imagines enhanced 'ideal reproductions of the real; 
and third, the reason imagines perfected or beautified ideal reproduc- 
tions of the real ; and fourth, the reason fancies playful and malign de- 
preciations of all things, both ideal and real. 

d. Now, these are the joint and corresponding capabilities of the affec- 
tions a,nd of the reason working together and producing sesthetical prod- 
ucts ; and the power that can produce these sesthetical results we call 
genius. It is plain that genius must be both intellect and suscepti- 
bility, — rather, a combination, a blending, and a unity of the two in 
one. Genius must be both spontaneous and rational, emotive and cog- 
nitive. It must have insight and instinct, and all so compounded and 
compacted as to make one whole, and so that genius, when producing 
art, will seem rather to work from intuitive impulse and instinct, than 
from ratiocinating or theorizing. Genius is, therefore, a rational, imagi- 
native, and impassioned spontaneity, by which the mind, as if by divine 
inspiration, sees and grasps the perfect of whatsoever it finds in nature 
in an immature and imperfect state, and embodies it in fitting form. As 
Shakspeare says, — 

" The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, 
And as imagination bodies forth 
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothings 
A local habitation and a name." 

Such is genius. 

e. What, then, is art, which is the product of genius in the use of 






THE INTELLECT. 583 

the eesthetical faculty ? Art, in its highest sense, is the embodiment of 
the beautiful in fitting forms. And the beautiful is that which is most 
excellent in anything represented in fitting forms. Art and beauty in 
their highest sense are thus correlative and coincident. 

/. 1st. Art, in the first instance, is manifestly an ideal. This ideal is 
formed or erected by the reason upon and from some real object already 
known. Every artist has in his own mind an ideal of that which is most 
excellent in being, character, and action, which he would see realized in 
fitting form. But that ideal was, as we have seen, created, in the first 
instance, by his own genius, upon some object in nature already exist- 
ing. The creative power of genius transfigures the real into the ideal, 
and then takes that ideal as a model again for the real. Every artist 
must thus have first his own ideal produced by the life-force of his own 
genius, upon some object in nature ; and all art is thus first an ideal, — 
an ideal springing from the rational, and impassioned, and spontaneous 
life-force of the poet's own genius brooding over some real thing. 

g. But before this ideal can be represented, before an artist or a 
nation can be brought up to the artistic point, this ideal must become a 
life-force within them. It must possess and move them, and must by 
them be wrought into living forms of action, achievement, and charac- 
ter, and become a life and a history ; then are both the artist and the 
nation ready and capable of reproducing that ideal in works of represen- 
tative art. 

h. 2d. Art is, therefore, in the second place, a life-force in the soul of 
the artist, working out an ideal in actual life in the world. And what 
is true of the artist is true of nations. Every nation must first have 
some great national ideal, some deep, strong, controlling sentiment of 
that which it deems highest and most excellent, welling up from the 
depths of its own life and pervading it like a spell, and which it seeks to 
embody in real life, before it can be artistic, or produce artists and 
appreciate, their works. This has always been the case. 

i. Every great nation has, in its turn, risen and flourished, and that 
success has embodied some grand ideal, which has blossomed out in fit- 
ting works of art, which continue to bloom forever, even after the nation 
that bore them has passed away. It matters not what this great and 
inherent ideal may be. It may be that of some mysterious and resistless 
power, subtile, sombre, occult, and inexorable, antedating all things, pro- 
ducing all things, controlling all things, destroying all things, like that 
of the ancient Egyptians, which embodied itself in massive and sombre 
tombs, pyramids, temples, and sphinxes. Or it may be the conception of 
some immense imperial authority, some vast regal magnificence and bar- 
baric splendor, like that of Babylon and Persia, and which we now find in 
the ruins of wasting cities, buried temples, and earth-covered palaces, 



584 AUTOLOGY. 

adorned with sculptured kings, conquerors, chariots, horses and horsemen, 
with mimic battles and triumphs in martial pomp, and regal magnificence. 

j. Or it may consist in the unimaged, un painted, and unsculptured 
presence of a spirit God, ruling and judging men by direct interposition 
and miraculous power, as with the Israelites. Or a nation may be pos- 
sessed of the supernal ideal of some godlike heroism, some divine phi- 
losophy, some heavenly beauty, shaping itself into symbol and song, 
statue and picture, temple and throne, as were the ancient Greeks. Or 
that ideal may be of some vast military- power, some ponderous political 
economy, some profound jurisprudence, like that of imperial Rome, 
which took for its own all the art productions of the world, and placed 
them in its own Pantheon, temples, tombs, and thermae, as emblematic 
of its own glory. 

k. Or, as in later days, it may be some crude combination of them 
all, mystic, barbaric, spiritual, aesthetic, legal, religious, civil, and mil- 
itary, as in mediaeval times, and as found embodied in castle, fortress, 
cathedral, palace, painting, poetry, and sculpture ; but some great ideal, 
some pervading sentiment and design, there must be, or there can be 
no art. 

I. Now, this artistic force of a nation \s identical with the very life- 
force of a nation. The same pulse-beat, the same heart-throb, that gives 
a nation life, gives it art, if art it has. All art, therefore, is life-force, 
and all national art is the outgrowth of a peculiar, intense, individual, 
national life-force. No nation can becom3 artistic untiLits own life itself 
becomes artistic, and until, almost involuntarily, it becomes lifted up and 
inspired by the ideals which its own history, characters, and achieve- 
ments have created. Art thus holds a /ital relation to the life-forces of 
any nation, as it does to that of an individual, and is produced by them. 

m. A nation, then, or an individual, in order to become artistic, must 
create an original ideal from the facts and characters already existing, 
then embody and become possessed of that ideal in its own real life, and 
then reproduce that ideal new created from its own consciousness, and 
embody it in works of poetic, plastic, and musical art. Art is thus an 
ideal, and a life-force embodying that ideal in history. 

n. 3d. But, in the third place, art is the representation, in some fitting 
form of word or figure, of an ideal. It is not only an original ideal, an 
inner life-force ; it is also an embodied form. It is a reality as well as 
an ideality ; it is a phenomenon, a something that appears in this breath- 
ing world below "the glimpses of the moon," and is not merely what 
we can conceive. It is not a dream, but a physical body ; not a 
shadowless ghost, but a thing of actual substance and form. 

o. Hence all art is representative, and that whether it be high and 
creative art, or low and imitative. High art, or art in its highest sig- 



THE INTELLECT. 585 

nificance, is the phenomenal representation of that which is loftiest and 
most excellent in a conception of being, action, and character ; and that 
which is highest and best may be made through poetry and the drama, 
through painting and sculpture, through music and architecture. In all 
these various forms may be expressed that which in men's minds is held 
as chiefest and most excellent. And that which men in all times thus 
hold as highest and most excellent in all or any of these forms of repre- 
sentation, that is called the beautiful. Beauty, as we have before said, 
is the chief and highest excellence in all things expressed in fitting 
forms ; and thus again we see that art and beauty are correlative and 
coincident. 

p. Art, then, is always representative of its object, and in its highest 
form represents and embodies the beautiful. And what is true of 
high art. is more obviously true of lower and merely imitative art; viz., 
it is representative of its object ; and though it is less creative, it is 
not less wonderful in its productions. It embodies the true, the real, 
the historic, in portraits, landscapes, and tableaux, in statues, groups, and 
monuments, representing objects, and persons, and events, as they are 
in real life, not always truthfully, but always true. 

q. When an object, or a person, or an event in real life is delineated 
upon canvas, or carved in stone, precisely line for line, and point for 
point, as it is in nature, such a work is true to the object thus deline- 
ated. But when such an object is so represented on canvas or in stone 
as to give, not only the identity of the object, but also all the possible 
perfections of that object as it might be brought out by development 
and surrounding, then is the representation not only true, but more 
than true — it is truthful ; i. e., full of truth, true as it can be ; it is not 
only real, but is also ideal. Now, the former of these is a low or merely 
imitative art, and is wonderful in its way. But the latter is high or 
creative art, and is the very loftiest achievement of human genius.. In 
these productions in poetry or the drama, in painting or statuary, in 
architecture or music, the human approaches the divine. 

r. The bust of Nero, like his own character, is true to him, but 
false to humanity. The character of Byron's Manfred is true to its 
own individuality, but false as a type of mankind. These works are 
true, but not truthful, real, but not universal ; while the 'bust of 
Shakspeare, like his writings, is true to him and to the whole human 
race, and the character of Cato is for the whole universe. 

s. Let it not, however, be concluded that nothing but high art can 
afford a field for genius, or that there is no ideality below the perfect. 
Genius may represent fragmentary as well as complete characters. 
Dame Quickly and Falstaff, Richard and Macbeth, Lear, Hamlet, and 
Othello, are as ideal as Diana and Apollo. The excellence of the work 
74 



586 AUTOLOGY. 

and the genius shown in prodncing them appear in their verisimilitude, 
and not in their perfectness. So the burlesques and caricatures of Ho- 
garth show genius working ; working, to be sure, rather with fancy than 
with imagination ; yet they show genius working, as really as do the 
the cartoons or Madonnas of Raphael. It requires as much genius to 
paint an ideal ruin, as it does to paint an ideal temple in all its perfect- 
ness. In the Christ portraits that abound, each artist has presented his 
own ideal of Christ's character, yet these differ each from the other, 
while each has striven to picture a perfect face according to his own 
ideal ; yet in the pictures of saints, kings, and renowned persons, as 
great genius has been shown, where there was no attempt nor intention 
to form a perfect character. 

t. Genius may thus show itself in all its works, and art may appear 
in all forms ; and as the universe is filled with objects of all varieties 
of form, and all degrees of excellence, yet each is the creation of a 
divine hand, so, in the world of art, creative genius may be shown in 
an insect or a mole as well as in a hero or a cherub, and in an imperfect 
man as well as in a perfect Christ. 

u. 4th. But fourthly, art is not only ideal, a life-force, and represen- 
tative, but it is also historic ; i. e., it comes after the' events of history, 
and is produced by the same power. We have already seen that art is 
produced by a nation's life-force, that no nation has art until its own 
life has become artistic ; and hence we say that all art is a vital force, 
and subsequential to the working of that force. Art is, therefore, his- 
toric. It is not coeval with the events or characters which it repre- 
sents, but comes after them. It abides ever in the evening of time, 
and sketches and empictures the shadows that lengthen on the plain, or 
engross upon the mountain-side over against the setting sun. Art does 
not ride with Aurora as she leads forth the horses of the sun in the 
fresh dawn of the morning, but rather with Hesperus, as he conducts 
his evening chariot down the sky, and through the glorious portals of 
the west ; and there, with her back to the departing day, looks upon the 
events that have gone by, and are just stepping out at the occidental 
gate, as they are mirrored in the twilight of the evening world behind 
them, and carves or pictures them in works of plastic or poetic art, 
according to her will. 

v. Art, being historic, represents things done, and is representative 
in date as well as in nature ; no nation, therefore, can be artistic until it 
is first historic. It must first create the material for art in the events and 
characters, the ideas and the deeds, of its own life, before art can have 
anything to represent, either to imitate or to idealize. Art transmutes 
fact and reality into pictures and sculptures, and it transfigures them 
into truthfulness, ideality, and beauty. By its creative power it trans- 



THE INTELLECT. 58*7 

forms the individual into the universal, and the temporal into the eter- 
nal. But by the very necessity of the case, the individual must be 
before the universal can be, the real before the ideal, the true before the 
truthful ; hence all art is of necessity historic, holds an a posteriori 
relation to all its objects ; art is of necessity subsequent to event. 
Art, as an ideal, is a priori, but as a representation, a posteriori; and 
what the nature of art here indicates is verified by the actual history of 
the whole world in all ages and in all countries. 

w. Art has always, as a fact, followed history, and has made the 
folds of her flowing garments, as they trail behind her, more glorious 
than, her own countenance, and her footprints more mighty than her 
own arm when she was creating her Alpine pathway over the ages of 
the world. The eras of empires have always been marked by the epochs 
of art. As the successive empires of the world have come and gone, 
they have left behind them the vestiges of their character and their 
power in the works of art that still remain. 

x. The historic ages of the world have come and gone like the great 
geological periods of the earth. And as of these vast periods and 
changes you may find along high and remote mountain ranges the old 
shore line, and discern there the action of water and of wave as they 
have deposited their marine substances, or have carved their achieve- 
ment on boulder and on rocky ledge, and retired, leaving them an en- 
during monument of their power, and of the limits of their sway, to 
witness forever to the ages, so may we find in all history of the past 
the limits of the world's achievements in its different ages, and the ex- 
tent of its sway, in the old works of art, — in sculpture, monument, and 
wall, tower, tomb, and palace, — which still remain on the verge of each 
era, as the old shore-line on the mountain range, from which the life- 
ocean of that age has long, long ago retired, leaving them, like wave- 
worn rocks and ledges, the eternal monuments of a power and an intel- 
ligence once' present, living and active there, but now gone forever. 

y. These remnants of art range themselves along the ancient shore- 
line of the ages past, and are marred or more perfect, crumbling to de- 
cay or in comparative entirety, just as they belong to more and more 
remote periods of the world. The old original sea of human life, em- 
pire, and art broke on its western shore, came to its limit and culmina- 
tion in the pyramids, tombs, sphinxes, and obelisks of Egypt, and in 
the walls, temples, and sculptures of the ancient cities of Nineveh and 
Babylon. These ancient relics, now disinterred and standing on these 
desolate shores, or transported to other lands, mark the terminus of 
power and of mind in those ages. 

z. The next era brings us to the days of Greece ; and the remains of 
this period were first found along its ancient shore, stretching from 



588 AUTOLOGY. 

Alexandria to Palmyra, Baalbec, Asia Minor. Athens, and Constantino- 
ple ; and they live forever, borne to all parts of the world, and show the 
unequalled and unequalable height to which the sea of human thought 
in poetry, sculpture and painting, and philosophy then rose. These 
glorious works, in manuscript and in marble, stand along the highest 
summits and mountain ranges of human thought, achievement, and 
power, alike imperishable and unapproachable. 

aa. The next great era brings us to Roman art. Here so high and 
so pervasive was the sea of empire, that it, like a second deluge, seemed 
to flood the whole world, and to float all former works of art to its own 
limit and shore, and pile them up there, ranging them through all the 
length of Italy even into Western Europe. Scattered up and down this 
favored peninsula are the works of art gathered from all ages and all 
countries, 

" Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks in Vallombrosa ; " 

they are beautiful, wonderful, eternal. 

bb. Next come we upon that new development of mediaeval times in 
which Christianity inspired art, and art seemed to take to itself wings 
and soar into the heavens, the heaven of heavens themselves, of inven- 
tion for ideals, and then picture them on canvas and on wall, in colors 
of life that almost beat with emotion and speak with intelligence. At 
that time, also," arose those wonderful structures, the Cathedrals, Gothic 
and Basilica, which the world will never cease to admire, but never 
can successfully imitate. 

cc. We lastly come to modern art, made up of the imitations and the 
subjects of the antique, which are yet preserved from every preceding 
age, embodying also the spirit, genius, and pressure of our modern life 
in poetry, painting, and music. Music is comparatively modern, yet has 
well vindicated its claim to a place amongst the sisterhood of arts. 

del. Now, these five periods sufficiently divide, and mark, and com- 
prehend the several eras of the world's achievement and the world's 
art, and show that art is, in fact, as it is in nature, historic, and ever 
of necessity follows and comes after the date of the objects which it 
represents, and that it is always produced by the same life-forces that 
produce history itself. , 

SECT. VII. THE REASON THEOLOGIZES; OR THE REASON AFFIRMS 
GOD AND IMMORTALITY. 

A. The Soul asserts itself and its God. 
a. The reason affirms that the soul has an author, and not merely a 
cause, and that it has a nature which is immortal in itself, and not simply 
a nature which is accountable and points to an immortality. The human 



THE INTELLECT. 589 

soul always asserts itself and its God ; and it asserts God by asserting 
itself; for the being of the soul is proof of the being of God. 

b. The first great fact known to the soul is that of its own existence. 
This fact is immediately followed by the first great argument of the 
soul ; viz., that the soul must have an author, and that that author is 
God. This first argument is inevitable from this first fact. 

c. The reason ever affirms that God and the soul are, and must be, 
of the same nature and the same homogeneity, and that hence the being 
and nature of man are proof of the being and .nature of God. As the 
mind knows itself, so also does it know its God ; and it knows its God 
as an inseparable part of knowing itself. 

d. To make this first fact and this first argument more apparent, let 
it be considered, first, that it is self-conscious, or conscious that it is a will, 
a free, affectional, rational, and ethical person, and that not as self-existent, 
but as an effect produced by some adequate power of which it is itself 
the image and embodiment. This consciousness gives three facts in one 
object; viz., first, the self as a person; second, the self as the effect of an 
adequate author ; and third, the self as the embodiment, representation, 
and image of the power that created it. 

e. This is the mind's natural and inevitable religion. It always 
egoizes, that is, affirms itself ; and it always theologizes, that is, affirms 
God ; and that by the same acts of the consciousness and the reason. 
The meaning is, that the consciousness and the reason give the self as a 
human being, as the effect of an adequate cause, and also as the image 
and embodiment of the power which made it, which is God. Thus 
it knows God as directly as it knows itself, and will not be argued 
out of its belief in his existence. 

/. It must be observed, however, that these are the acts of two fac- 
ulties of the mind — the consciousness and the reason. The conscious- 
ness gives the self, or personality ; then the reason, from that finite 
personality, forms the idea of an absolute personality ; then? with this 
idea of an absolute personality as cause, author, or creator, it cognizes 
the finite personality as an effect which embodies the nature and power 
of the cause or author as the phenomenal presence of that author ; and 
thus it cognizes God, finds God in the self of which it is conscious. 
This self is first a begun personality ; secondly, it is the effect ; and 
thirdly, it is the embodiment of the power that made it. That power is 
the beginner of a free, affectional, rational, and ethical soul, and must, 
therefore, be himself a self-existent and free, rational and ethical being ; 
and such a power is God. 

g. The reason, by means of its idea of man and of God, cognizes this 
first fact; viz., the human being as free, affectional, rational, and ethical, 
and as such, both as the embodiment of a soul and of the power that 



590 AUTOLOGY. 

made the soul; i. e., a free, rational, affectional, and ethical cause; or, 
in other words, it cognizes man as a person, and as the embodiment of 
the personal cause or author that made it. 

1%. Now, this knowing God is not so much logic as simple cognition. 
All the operations of the reason in relative knowing are, in fact, when 
reduced to' their elements, simple cognition. Cognition is a short argu- 
ment, while logic, or reasoning, is a longer one ; and this is the case in 
the present instance ; viz., when man is regarded as an effect, we argue, 
by a logical process, the being of God ; but when man is regarded as 
the image or embodiment of God as his author, then the act by which 
we know God is that of cognition simply. Thus man is the image or 
embodiment of himself and of the power that made him ; therefore God 
is as directly cognized by man's person as man himself is cognized by it. 

i. If, however, we turn to the syllogistic method, and seek to know 
God by logic, instead of by cognition, viz., by the proposition, "Every 
effect must have a cause," still this process is effected by the use of the 
same facts; viz., man knows himself as an effect; i. e., as having a 
begun existence ; and he knows that as an effect he had a cause ; or as 
a begun creation he had a beginner, and that, whether any other event 
had a cause or not, man's own consciousness and reason affirm him as a 
personal effect demanding a personal cause. 

j. Neither of these methods of knowing God can be called a syntheti- 
cal knowing or judgment ; for we have the phenomenal presence of the 
cause, and that in precisely the same object in which we have the effect ; 
the connection between them is, therefore, inseparable from them. The 
phenomenal appearance of the effect and of the cause are here identical, 
i. e., they are found embodied in the same object. How, then, can the 
connection between them be doubted ? 

h. The causal force, in producing the effect, embodies itself, so that 
the effect and the cause — the very causative energy of the cause and 
the effect-^- are both embodied, and appear as phenomena before us in 
the same object. This, then, is not a synthetical judgment, or knowing ; 
for, by analyzing the effect, we find the cause embodied in the same 
object; and, although the causing force or creative power, is not there, 
yet the phenomenal form of it is there, as well as the effect which it 
produced. 

I. Thus man is known to be an effect, and thus is it proved that he 
had a cause, and that that cause is God ; and this is enough for our 
purpose. It is no matter whether any other object is an effect or not, so 
long as it is known that man is an effect, and has a begun existence ; 
nor is it any matter to this argument whether anything else has a 
cause or not, so long as we know that man has an author — let them go, 
and be what they may. 



THE INTELLECT. 591 

m. It need not be proved, either by inductive process or a priori, 
that every object must have a cause. They may not be events or effects 
at all, may have no cause, or be self-existent ; it is no matter to this point. 
If this one object, man, is an effect, and if he has a cause, that cause is 
God ; and thus God is proved from one fact alone, no matter what may 
be true or false of other facts. 

n. Thus man proudly, confidently, surely theologizes — demands, 
finds, and knows God, and that in his own right and by no favor from 
any other source. The human mind asks neither revelation nor induc- 
tion for any help in this matter ; it knows itself and its God alone, and 
by its own power. Whether the axiom, " Every effect must have a 
cause," be true or not, whether it can be proved that any other object 
in existence had a beginning or not, it is proved that man had a begin- 
ning as an individual and as a race, and that none but God could be 
that beginner or author. 

o. We care not, therefore, whether any first truth be true or not, or 
whether there be any cause for any other object or not ; man is an 
effect, and none but God can be his cause. This both consciousness 
and reason affirm ; they ask no help from any source. We say that 
the human mind asks no help, but that it demands, seeks, and finds God, 
and claims. to know him by the power of its own intelligence. 

p. It refuses to confess to a God simply from the wants of the reli- 
gious affections, or from the dependence of its physical condition, or from 
the demands of its ethical nature, or yet from any necessity of its own 
logical processes ; but it claims to know the being of God because 
there is such a being to be known, and to know him precisely as it 
knows anything else, any other object in the universe, viz., by the ex- 
ercise of its senses and reason conjointly in the act of common cognition. 

B. Immortality. 

a. Nor is the soul less certain of that other great fact of humanity, 
viz., its own immortality, than of the existence of God. Indeed, they 
both depend on the same proofs. The soul is both conscious of its own. 
freedom, and is rationally and experimentally convinced of it ; and free- 
dom is the essence of spirit, and spirit is essentially immortal ; it knows 
also its own rational and ethical nature, and these are proof to it of God 
and immortality. They are proof also that it is a begun existence, and 
thus do the same facts prove that man is a soul, that there is a God, and 
that man is immortal. 

b. That which enables it to cognize God is not simply the conscious- 
ness that it is a self, but that it is a begun existence ; the consciousness 
that it is an effect not only, but the consciousness that it is a free, affec- 
tional, and rational, and ethical personal- effect, and thus that it is not of the 



592 AUTOLOGY. 

nature of matter, but of spirit, and not kindred to the brute, but to 
God. 

c. And it is not a little singular that the nature of man that shows 
him kin to God, and hence immortal, is the very thing, and the only 
thing, that shows that he has a begun existence, the only thing that 
shows, or can show, that he, or anything, can have a beginning out of 
nature. The fact that a thing is begun is proof that it is created, and 
the only thing which can be shown to have had a beginning outside and 
separate from nature and necessary forces, is the human soul, 

d. Each free, affectional, rational, and ethical soul now living, as 
matter of fact, had its beginning in the will of human parents ; and by 
the fact of his own free, rational, and ethical nature, it is evident that 
the first man or parent could have had his beginning only in a free, affec- 
tional, rational, and ethical author. 

e. The thing created shows the nature of the creator to the extent of 
its own nature ; so man's nature shows God's nature to the extent of it- 
self. Man has a free, affectional, rational, and ethical being; and these 
properties of freedom, affection, rationality, and ethics are the proof, 
equally and simultaneously, of three things : first, they are the proof 
that man has a begun existence ; second, they are the proof of God's 
existence and nature ; third, they are the proof of man's spirit-nature, or 
immortality. 

/. In being, proof of the first they are proof of the second, and in 
being proof of the second they are proof of the third ; and thus all three 
proofs hang together, and consist of the same thing, and all must stand 
or fall together ; for the fact that man finds the divine nature, the nature 
of God, within him, and that he is, to the extent of his being, a spirit 
having will, affections, intellect, and conscience, such as is the great 
Creator, is the proof to him that God is, and that he himself is, spirit and 
immortal. 

g. Therefore the proof which the human soul gives that there must 
be a God, is the proof also of its own immortality. The proof of man's 
immortality, like the proof of God's existence, rests on the nature of the 
human mind as free, affectional, rational, and ethical, and on the fact 
that he is a person. 

h. The proof of man's immortality is not a subject of testimony, nor 
a subject of historical evidence. Should a thousand angels testify to 
man's immortality, that would not prove it. Should a man die and live 
after in heaven, that would not prove it, for he might die again. No 
experiment can prove it, for this is, in the nature of the case, impossible ; 
no revelation can prove it, for this would be only testimony. If man is 
immortal, that immortality must lie in his own nature ; and in order, 
therefore, to be assured of it, he must find it in his own nature ; for no 



THE INTELLECT. 593 

other evidence of it, or proof of it, can possibly be reliable. And in 
man's nature do we find that which proves God's being, and the reason 
why it proves God's being is, that it is of the nature of God, and like 
God, free, affcctional, rational, ethical, and personal. Now, these are the 
elements of the divine nature, and therefore, once existing, must exist 
forever. 

i. If it be asked, Since man is of the nature of God, ought he not, 
like God, to be self-existent ? Yes, if we did not know as a first fact 
that ho is an effect, has a begun existence. This fact it is that makes 
man's being and nature proof that there is a God ; if man were not a 
begun being, then could we not prove that a beginner exists ; and, what- 
is more, man is the only being, the only object in the world, whose 
existence can be proved to have had a beginning out of nature. 

j. Every other thing but man, as a free personality, may have had a 
beginning in some of nature's blind and necessary forces ; but man, as a 
free personality, could not have had his beginning, in any blind force. 
And historically each man, as an individual, since the first man, has his 
beginning, as all know, out of nature, and independent of all necessary 
causes in the free will of human persons as parents. Thus is man the 
only object in nature from which the being of God can be proved from 
the fact that no other object can be proved to have a beginning outside 
of necessary nature. And the proof lies in two things: first, the fact 
that he has a begun existence, i. e., is an effeet ; and secondly, that he 
is a free, affectional, rational, and ethical personal effect. 

k. From this, then, it is manifest that while man's being and nature 
are proof of God's being and of man's immortality, they are not proof 
of man's self-existence, but proof of his dependent existence ; for in the 
fact that man is an effect lies the proof that there is a God. So he can- 
not bo self-existent ; if he were, his being would be no proof of God's being. 

I. It then stands established that the being of man as a begun being, 
as an effect, is proof of the being of God ; and that the nature of 
man, as free, affectional, rational, and ethical, is the proof that man has a 
begun existence, outside of nature, and also the proof that the beginner 
of man must be a free, affectional, rational, and ethical being; and thus 
that man has God's nature in him, and is of the nature of God, and is 
consequently immortal in his nature. 

m. Man, then, has a being created by God in his own image, as a 
rational spirit, the proof of himself and the embodiment of his power 
and nature as creator. And thus is man proof of his own immortality as 
certainly as he is proof of a God"; and that proof consists of precisely 
the same material. It is because man partakes of the divine nature, 
i. e., is a spirit, and has free will, affections, reason, conscience, and 
personality, that he is proof of the being of God And it is for the 
75 



594 AUTOLOGY. 

same reason, viz., that he has God's nature, that he is immortal. In 
this manner does the reason, theologize God, and in so doing bring out 
the immortality of man. , 

SECT. VIIL THE REASON LEGISLATES. 

a. The highest office of the reason is to discover the rule of duty for 
the conscience. That rule consists always of the highest intelligence of 
the soul. The office of conscience is to enforce the rule of duty when 
known. 
. b. The dictates of the reason are self-affirmed, whether in the dis- 
covery of primary truths or in the generalization of particular facts ; 
and when it has comprehended the facts of consciousness, and formed 
them into ideas, and when it has cognized the facts of the senses, and 
thus gathered up all knowledge within its reach, both absolute and rela- 
tive, — then it is prepared to give to the conscience the rule of duty 
which is ultimate. All the acts of the reason become thus laws of the 
conscience in governing the choices of the will, the emotions of the 
affections, and the acts of the life. The reason is thus the supreme law- 
giver of the soul. 

c. The reason of every man is, however, in some respects, subject to 
the very conscience to which it furnishes the rules of duty ; viz., in that 
every man is bound to use his whole reason, and never rest in an un- 
reasonable reason for anything. The reason must thus be suffered to be 
true to itself. Indeed, the reason cannot be otherwise than true to it- 
self; for it is an involuntary faculty ; but the passions of the heart may 
sometimes overrule, and stifle, and pervert it. The conscience demands 
that the whole power of the reason be employed in giving rules for the 
action of the soul so that the soul shall not perish through ignorance. 

d. The conscience, like its God, holds every human intellect compe- 
tent to know and give all necessary knowledge for the guidance of the 
soul ; at least, it holds the soul acquitted when the reason has done its 
best, and employed all helps from the mind itself, from nature, and from 
revelation, which were within its reach. The knowledge thus gained is 
the supreme rule of duty to the soul ; and the conscience will enforce it 
by the whole sense of obligation which it can impose, and avenge the 
neglect of it by all the stings of remorse which it can inflict. 

SECT. IX. CONCLUSION. 

A. The route from man to God is not through nature, but through the 
human soul. 

a. The aphorism, " Through nature up to nature's God," cannot be 
sustained, but is false ; there is no such route to God ; it is only a 



THE INTELLECT. 595 

labyrinth of nature and in nature. The only way to God's being lies 
directly through the human soul. The soul alone is evidence of a God ; 
and it is because the soul is conscious of this that it asserts its God. 
The soul is the highest specimen of God's creative power, and, there- 
fore, the first and highest evidence of his existence ; and hence the soul 
feels wronged when it is ignored and God's being is denied because his 
inferior works do not prove his existence. 

b. God's existence can never be denied while man's true nature is 
known and recognized. The reason, recognizing man's nature, always 
theologizes ; it does not simply causate. The reason demands, most 
assuredly, that every event must have a cause ; but it just as sternly 
demands a self-existent and personal cause, a cause uncaused, as it de- 
mands a cause for all events. Hence, following up the succession of 
sequences from effect to cause will never give satisfaction until that 
cause rests in an uncreated, self-existent, and personal God. 

c. 1st. To tell the soul that it is a part of nature or of universal 
being, and has no cause ; that all being is made up of mind and matter, 
as did Spinoza, or of logic, nature, and spirit, as did Hegel ; and that 
thus mind is a part of being in general, exists always, and alwaj^s has 
existed in some form, actual or latent, and therefore neither has nor 
needs a cause, but is itself a cause, — this will not, and does not, satisfy 
it ; it knows itself to be an effect, and demands for itself a cause. 

d. 2d. Nor will it ever satisfy the soul to tell it that it was caused 
by a mere first cause : a mere blind force will never satisfy it ; for it 
knows that it itself is more than any mere blind force ; it knows itself 
to be a free, rational, affectional, and ethical soul. 

e. 3d. Nor will it better satisfy the rational soul to tell it that it had 
an architect, a maker of intelligence and skill, by whom it was curiously 
wrought. It demands more than this, more than to be an integral por- 
tion of all being, more than to have a "mere cause, more than to have a 
mere architect, a maker, however skilful. 

f. It demands an author, an author for its own being; for it is itself 
both author and proprietor, a free, affectional, rational, and ethical soul ; 
and it demands an author who is a free, affectional, rational, and 
ethical soul, who is self-existent and almighty, and thus competent to be 
its creator and God. Thus the soul theologizes. 

B. The soul claims to know God by its intellectual power, and not 
simply to infer his existence from its ethical nature. 

a. The soul not only demands that a creator and author shall exist, 
but it claims to know him, and to know him by the proper exercise of 
its own rational faculties, its reason and its sense, just as it cognizes 
any other object in nature. 



596 AUTOLOGY. 

b. The reason rises up in repugnant abhorrence of the dogma that it 
cannot cognize its God, author, and creator. It scorns and tramples on 
the dogmas of Kant, which, denying that it can cognize God by the 
exercise of the faculties of the consciousness, the reason, and the sense, 
hand it over to the pitiful and beggarly implications and behests of the 
conscience for any knowledge of its God. 

c. Still more abhorrent is the doctrine of Sir William Hamilton and the 
Scotch school ; viz., that the human mind is weak, and cannot know God 
by reason, but may know him by faith. Turning away from these de- 
grading views, the reason claims to know God in its own right, and by 
its own power. It claims to know God, not by charity, but by right ; 
not by weakness, but by strength. It knows that there is a God, be- 
cause there is a God to be known, and that by the same means by 
which it knows anything else. It acknowledges the law of conscience 
pointing to immortal judgment, but it claims to know God as the author 
of man's free, affectional, rational nature, as it now exists, without look- 
ing to or waiting for a future judgment. 



THE INTELLECT. 597 



DIVISION IY. 

INTELLECT QUESTIONS. 

CHAPTER I. 

WHAT IS THE ULTIMATE STANDARD OF TRUTH? 

a. The standard of truth must be distinguished from the source of 
truth and the author of truth. While the human mind cannot be to 
itself the source and author of all truth, yet it can and must, by its 
own reason and experience, be to itself its own interpreter, and the sole 
and supreme judge and standard, of truth. 

b. The human mind must in all cases be held as competent to receive 
truth, and capable of judging of its nature and use, or no truth can be 
communicated to it, from any source, not even from Heaven. If man's 
reason cannot comprehend nor his experience prove truth, then he is 
incapable of receiving it. Even the parent, who peremptorily commands 
the obedience of his child, expects that the child's future experience 
will prove, and his future intelligence will comprehend the truth and 
wisdom of his commands. So the teacher, who instructs, addresses him- 
self to the reason of the pupil, and expects that the arbitrary rules, 
principles, formulas, and combinations, which are at first received on 
mere authority, will ultimately be comprehended and fully understood 
by the pupil ; and that they will, in the end, be held as true, on the 
ground of reason and experiment, and not on the ground of mere au- 
thority. 

c. On the other hand, it would be impossible for any human being to 
receive and hold for any length of time that which his own reason and 
experience reject. All communications of knowledge, therefore, made 
to the human mind, must of necessity be received or rejected by it, ac- 
cording to the dictates of its own reason and experience. If the truth 
be received, in the first instance, on the ground of faith in the author, 
still it must thereafter be put to the test of experiment, and that which 
is found to be established by use, and trial, and experience, will in the 
end be seen to be reasonable. 

d. The Catholic holds that the church, collectively, is the living stan- 



598 AUTOLOGY. 

dard of truth and of interpretation for the Bible ; the Protestant holds to 
the right of private interpretation. Both claim that only a regenerated 
man is fully capable of holding the whole truth, or, at least, of fully ap- 
preciating the whole truth ; yet both hold that all men are under obliga- 
tion to receive, know, believe the truth, and act upon it so far as it 
is given either by nature or revelation. 

e. The revelation of God in the Bible is the infallible rule of faith 
and practice for all men, and ever must, and ever will be, so received by 
men. Yet this revelation itself is presented to the human mind,, to be 
considered by it, and judged of as to truth, usefulness, and rectitude, 
and to be received or rejected by it as reason and experience dictate. 
God thus submits his revelation to men, not only assuming, but charging, 
that they are capable of understanding it, and men receive the truth 
intelligently, or reject it at their peril. 

/. The question, " What is truth ? " must ever be an open question, 
and no authority of man or of God can ever take it out of the court of 
human inquiry, or so settle it as to silence or supersede the voice of 
reason and experience. For, in the first instance, a miracle itself must 
be put to the test of reason and experience as to its truth and validity ; 
and secondly, if it is found a reality, and that which it indorses be 
received, still it is received only on trial. A miracle can only introduce 
a truth and put it on the trial of reason and experience ; for after a 
revelation is introduced and vouched for by a reliable and admitted 
miracle, then still it must demonstrate itself as true to human reason 
and experience by actually doing and producing what it professed, and 
what the miracle promised that it would do. If it does fulfil that prom- 
ise, then it has no further need of the testimony of a miracle to its 
truth, for it stands attested by human reason and experience, which are 
the highest evidence. 

g. If, on the other hand, it fails to fulfil that which was promised for 
it, and which it professed for itself, then no miracle nor any authority 
can give it credence, nor lay men under obligation to receive it. The 
same is true of inspiration : if an inspired book shows itself true to the 
reason and experience of men by its practical results, then it needs no 
longer the help of inspiration to sustain it in the world, for it stands 
already on higher ground of evidence for its truth ; viz., the evidence 
of experiment and practical use. But if an inspired book fails, when 
brought to the test of reason and experience, to produce the good which 
it promised, then no inspiration could sustain its authority in the world. 
Indeed, it would have demonstrated its own falseness, and no one would 
be under obligation to receive it. 

h. But it is a fact now established by the reason and experience of 
men and of the ages, that the Bible is true, and was written by the in- 



THE INTELLECT. 599 

spiration of God, and attested by miracles, and is, therefore, the Word 
of God, and the only rule, of faith and practice ; so that the questions 
whether miracles were ever wrought, or whether the Bible was written 
by inspiration, are no longer important ; for the Bible is now attested 
by the higher evidence of reason and experiment, and these would 
maintain it forever in human belief, even if it were not inspired at first, 
nor attested by miracles. The human mind has thus historically vindi- 
cated itself as the standard of truth, for it has received and indorsed 
the Bible as the revelation of God. 

i. Indeed, the competence ofthe human mind to receive, judge of, 
and hold the truth, is assumed by God in making a revelation at the 
first ; and it is because men can thus know truth, that their rejection of 
it is attributed to perverseness and an evil heart of unbelief, by which 
they depart from the living God. 

j. Will it be said that what the human mind rejects to-day it may on 
second thought receive to-morrow, and that what it receives to-day it 
may reject to-morrow, and that therefore it is no standard of truth ? 
This is a false conclusion, for it is precisely because it is to itself the 
standard of truth that it does reject to-day and receive to-morrow, or 
receive to-day and reject to-morrow. 

k. It is not possible that any truth can be settled for the human 
mind by authority ; the highest intelligence derived from reason and 
experience must and will ever assert its supremacy, no matter what the 
truth which is introduced, or who it is that introduces it. Even an 
oecumenical council must submit to the reason and experience of man- 
kind, as they increase in knowledge from age to age. Thus the human 
mind must ever of necessity be to itself, in its reason and experience, 
its own ultimate standard of truth. What they dictate must be the 
truth for the time being, though they may see .cause to change to- 
morrow ; and if they change the opinions of to-day for the opinions of 
to-morrow, still it will be their own opinion, and they will still be to 
themselves the standard of truth. 



600 AUTOLOGY. 



CHAPTER II. 

CAN TIIE TRUSTWORTHINESS OF THE FACULTIES OF THE 
MIND BE PROVED BY THE TESTIMONY OF THOSE FAC> 
ULTIES THEMSELVES? 

a. The faculties of the Intellect are the Consciousness, the Reason, 
and the Sense. The answer to the question is, that if the trustworthi- 
ness of any faculty of the mind be called in question, and if it be 
sought to vindicate and establish it by the testimony of any other fac- 
ulty of the mind, then the trustworthiness of that other faculty of the 
mind must be assumed, in order either to establish or impeach the trust- 
worthiness of the faculty put on trial. 

b. But if we may assume that one faculty is trustworthy, why not 
another ? and if we may accuse one faculty of incompetency or faith- 
lessness, why not another ? Shall the reason accuse the sense, or the 
sense the reason, or both impeach the consciousness ? Who is to judge 
where we shall begin, or which faculty shall be the delinquent; which 
the judge by which it shall be tried, and which shall be the witness by 
whose testimony such delinquency is to be proved ? The whole attempt 
either to establish or invalidate the competence or credibility of any 
faculty of the mind, or of the mind as a whole, is therefore both self- 
contradictory and absurd. In every case the entire trustworthiness of 
the mind must of necessity be assumed. 

c. If we presume the mind, either in whole or in part, incompetent 
or untrustworthy, we by this self-same act assume and assert the com- 
petence and credibility of the self-same mind, and that by the fact that 
we accept its judgment upon its own competency or incompetency. 

d. Thus the very doublings as to the mind's competency, and the 
very judgment by which we either condemn or acquit it, are proof of its 
credibility, and of its reliableness. To attempt to prove the validity of 
the mind by its own testimony is therefore absurd ; equally absurd 
would it be to attempt to prove the incompetence or the untrustworthi- 
ness of the human mind by the testimony of angels, or of God, or of 
any other order of intelligences ; for even God or angel, in passing a 
judgment upon the human mind (for the human mind to accept on 
trust) must of necessity submit that judgment to the judgment of the 
human mind itself, and thus, in the very act of condemning the human 
mind for incompetency, must pronounce it competent to understand at 



THE INTELLECT. 601 

least its own condemnation. Thus is it impossible even for God, or 
angels, much more for men, to convict the human mind of incompetence 
before a human tribunal. The only tribunal for the human mind is the 
human mind itself ; it can appeal from its own judgment of to-day to its 
own judgment of yesterday, or of to-morrow ; and these are its only re- 
sources ; and these appeals themselves assume the competency of the 
mind as a whole, from whose specific and local judgment in a particular 
case it, for the time, appeals to its own decision, past or to come. A 
higher intelligence may correct or add to the knowledge of a lower, but 
it must in so doing assume the competence of the lower to receive and 
understand such corrections and additions. He must make all commu- 
nications in accordance with the fundamental principles of all knowledge, 
which pervade and underlie all being and all possibility of knowing in 
the whole universe of God, and assume necessarily that the rational be- 
ings with whom he communicates both know and understand these 
principles. 



CHAPTER III. 

WHAT IS THE LIMIT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE? 

a. The limit of human knowledge relates both to nature and to ex- 
tent ; i. e., the nature of the thing to be known, and the extent of it. 
As to extent, the human mind can never fully know all the finite, as the 
finite objects of nature are yet so very numerous. God's works are, by 
reason of their numerousness and extent, " past finding out" by the hu- 
man faculties, for want of time and locomotion, and not because these 
works are in their nature unknowable, or because man is incompetent 
to know them. Man can never fully know or comprehend the finite, 
because it multiplies and extends itself forever and ever. Eternity and 
an angel's faculties could not enable man to find the end of God's 
works ; yet these works are not infinite, but finite. 

b. But what of the infinite ? Can man know it ? Does the nature of 
the thing to be known, limit and cut off man's power to know ? Cer- 
tainly not ; that which is real has thereby in itself the element of re- 
ality ; man's soul is a reality ; and all realities are mutually impenetra- 
ble, both in the world of nature and in the world of spirit. God as a 
spirit, and man as a spirit, are mutually impenetrable, and both, being 
conscious and intelligent, must know and recognize each other in that 

76 



602 AUTOLOGY. 

contact, — that is, a contact both of being and of consciousness, of 
thoughts and of actions, — and must of necessity give mutual recog- 
nition. 

c. But can the mind of man comprehend the Infinite ? To this it is 
replied that the Infinite is real, having all positive and all possible ex- 
cellences and realities centred in itself, and is thus the being and 
unity of all possible perfections. The Infinite is not the sum total of 
all conceivable quantities, numbers, or magnitudes, nor is it the added- 
up forces of nature in the universe : that would be only the finite still, 
and would be indeed incomprehensible. But the Infinite is the positive 
perfectness of a living personality, whose centre and circumference are 
in himself, and, as a complete and perfect personality, is both knowable 
and comprehensible by the human mind. Man may, and does, know 
God, just as he knows man, only more so, for God is a perfect person- 
ality, while man is incomplete. 

d. The man of to-day knows God precisely as he knows his fellow- 
men to-day; viz., by contact, by recognition, and by observation. He 
finds God by first finding himself as a rational spirit whose existence- 
had a beginning. With this fact in his possession, his reason imme- 
diately affirms God as the free, affcctional, rational, and ethical cause of 
that beginning, and of the man thus begun : from this fact of man's 
being, given by the consciousness, the reason both forms the idea of 
God and affirms his actual existence. After God is thus found, man, 
enlightened by the ideas and facts affirmed by the reason, comes to a 
consciousness of his actual being and presence, and to feel that in 
Him " he lives, and moves, and has his being; " that " He is not far 
from every one of us," and that " we are all his offspring." Possessed 
thus of a knowledge of God, man more than " touches the hem of his 
garment." Conscious of being in the divine image, as a free, affec- 
tional, rational, and ethical soul, which had a beginning, man lays hold 
on God with the grasp of that consciousness,_and, either with or without 
a logical process, exclaims in most intelligent confidence, '•' My Lord and 
my God." Thus man knows God, as a fact and a reality, by both rea- 
son and experience. He thus finds God as his beginner, and having 
thus found a beginner for his own soul's being, he has thereby found a 
beginner for the universe and all which it contains. For if the author 
of the soul exists, no inferior author, cause, or beginner is needed. 
Thus man finds, and thus he comprehends, the Infinite in the personality 
of his beginner, author, and ci-eator, and the creator Of all things, a per- 
sonal God, absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute. 



THE INTELLECT. 603 



CHAPTER IV. 

INTELLECT POWER. 

a. By Intellect Power is meant the power to know, and the power 
which knowledge gives. This power lies in the essential knowingness 
or consciousness, and in the essential comprehendingness or the reason, 
and in the sense. The senses are the means of contact with the outer 
world, and on their perfectness much of human knowledge and mental 
power depend. The intellect is much more potent, comprehensive, and 
effective when it is supplied with a complete and perfect sense-organiza- 
tion. Mechanics, music, poetry, and sculpture are entirely dependent 
on the senses ; yet the senses may be perfect where the mind rs 
weak, and in the absence of any soul at all, as in brute life. Genius, 
therefore, lies in the reason, though the senses alone can give form and 
body to its creations. 

b. Intellect power consists in the power to know by any and all the 
processes of knowing, especially knowing by the consciousness and the 

• reason. The first is both sensuous and comprehending, yet neither 
alone, but is a peculiar and essential • intelligence, composed of both 
combined in one indissoluble unity. The power of the reason is intui- 
tive, comprehending, and cognitive. It discerns the things that are, that 
may be, and that must be, and thus has in itself the power of beginning 
to know ; i. e., the power to know absolutely, and the elements and 
first principles of the knowable and of all knowledge. With these two 
powers, viz., consciousness and the reason, armed with the facts of the 
one and the ideas of the other, the mind not only knows absolutely, 
but knows the absolute. To know absolutely is to begin to know, and 
to know the absolute is to know the perfect ; and this is the climax of 
intellectual power. 

c. Armed with sense and thrown into the midst of the universe, man, 
with his consciousness and reason, may be ever learning, and go for- 
ward ever finding something more in God's works, and adding to his 
facts and to his knowledge. Man's genius can invent all machinery and 
instruments of use. He can master and appropriate all nature's forces, 
and rule them, and with them extend his dominion over all things in 
earth and sky. He explores the depths of nature, finds out her secrets, 
and appropriates her mighty elements to his use. He penetrates the 
hidden recesses and climbs to the dizzy heights in the world of the 



604 AUTOLOGY. 

mind, and ascends to the very being and throne of God. The principles 
of science, philosophy, art, government, economy, mechanics, religion, 
all contribute to his amount of knowledge, and the power that it be- 
stows. Man's reason can enter also the world of imagination, and, 
armed with the acute and subtile cunning of the senses, may fill it with 
ideal creations in poetry, the drama, music, sculpture, and architecture, 
rearing another universe on the creation of God. Thus all things in 
the universe yield to the mastery of man's intellect power. No limit 
can be given to his acquisition of knowledge, or to the amount of power 
which knowledge gives ; for the finite is an unending progress of addi- 
tions of things to things, in which the soul may go forward, cognizing 
and to cognize, forever and ever, and never come to an end ; while the 
infinite and the absolute are complete and perfect, comprehensible and 
within the grasp of the human mind. Man knows absolutely first, and 
relatively afterwards. He first knows himself, and then God, and then 
nature ; i. e., he knows himself absolutely ; then, by this absolute knowl- 
edge, he knows God the absolute ; and lastly, by this absolute knowing, 
and the knowing of the absolute, he is prepared to know nature and the 
finite in its endlessness, forever and forever. 

Thus intellect power rules all things. It discovers science, creates art, 
gives laws, fights battles ; it conquers nature and sways mind ; it sits in 
judgment upon everything, and is the lord, ruler, executive, and dis- 
poser of all things. 



PART IV. 
THE CONSCIENCE 



CHAPTER I. 

THE FACT AND NATURE OF THE CONSCIENCE. 

SECT. I. AN ETHICAL JUDGMENT IS THE HIGHEST FUNCTION OF 
A RATIONAL SOUL. 

a. Up to this point we have brought the human mind through the 
worlds of liberty, affection, and intelligence, and we have found in them 
all a distinctive and peculiar humanity. We now rise above all the action 
of the will, the affections, and the intellect, in which they perform their 
especial work, and come to the matter of discerning what is the moral 
character of the action of the will, and of the other faculties of the mind 
as under its guidance ; and this act of self-judgment on what we have 
already done, and of approving it as right or condemning it as wrong, 
and of holding ourselves as guilty or innocent accordingly, — this is the 
supreme function of the rational soul. The faculty that performs this 
function is the conscience. 

b. In the faculty of the conscience man ascends to the highest 
development and dignity of his nature. Man is spirit, and, therefore, 
in all things differs from mere animal nature ; his faculties are shared by 
none of the brute creatures ; in his will, his affections, his intellect, and 
his conscience, he is altogether sui generis. Yet in the faculty of the 
conscience he rises to the sublimest height of a rational soul. 

c. The conscience is not only different in nature and functions, but 
distinctive in its individuality from all the other faculties, and rises 
supreme over them all. While with the will man exercises freedom, and 
with the affections he loves, and with the intellect he knows, it is with 
the conscience that he ethicizes, or passes ethical judgments. 

605 



606 AUTOLOGY. 

d. With this faculty man imposes moral obligation upon himself, and 
subordinates liberty, love, and knowledge to the right. It is in the ex- 
ercise of the conscience that man rises above himself, and confesses obli- 
gation to that which is higher than he. 

• e. It is by the conscience that he ascends the throne of judgment, 
and pronounces upon the moral quality of all things. Men, angels, and 
God are not exempt from the surveillance of man. in the exercise of the 
moral susceptibility and moral imperative of his conscience. Conscience 
stands the highest of all the faculties, and is supreme in its office as 
ethical censor and judge. 

/. In their natures respectively, however, all the faculties are unique, 
indispensable, and of the same high nature ; for if there were no will, 
there could be no affections ; and if there were neither will nor affections, 
there could be no intellect ; and if the will, the affections, and the intel- 
lect did not exist, then there could be no conscience. 

g. Conscience is not only the highest in office, but the highest be- 
cause the last developed, and because built like a dome upon the pillars 
of all the other faculties. 

h. To exercise liberty, and to wield the prerogatives of a self-proprie- 
tor, is to perform the most essential functions of manhood, and to show 
that without which manhood cannot be. 

i. So also does the exercise of pure sympathy and affection belong 
exclusively to man as possessing the affectional nature of a spiritual 
being. 

j. The intuitive comprehending of the reason also belongs exclusively 
to man ; this is a power which sees the beginning and the end, the in- 
tent and design, as well as the means and reality of an object or an event, 
and which grasps all first truths ; without this capability no rational soul 
<could ever exist. 

k. But the Conscience, as the last and highest faculty, is, if possible, 
still more essential to the existence of a rational being. The conscience 
performs the diviner function of feeling or suscepting the rule of right 
as given by the highest intelligence of the reason, and, by means of so 
feeling and suscepting, discerning and becoming conscious of the right 
as a rule of duty. 

I. Then the conscience, so. feeling and so discerning the rule of duty, 
ascends the throne of its own ethical authority, and enjoins upon the 
will and all the other faculties the observance of that rule of duty, be- 
cause it is right, and in itself obligatory upon a free, affectional, and 
rational soul. 

m. Thus the conscience stands the highest as a faculty, and the 
suprcmest in authority and function of all the faculties of the mind, and 
is the ethical judge of the whole soul. 



THE CONSCIENCE. 607 

SECT. II. IS THERE A CONSCIENCE? 

a. This question might seem entirely superfluous, were it not that 
this faculty of the mind is so often lost sight of in works on mental 
philosophy. By some its existence is denied altogether, as Paley. By 
others, it is confounded with, and made a constituent of the will, 
as Kant. Others blend it with the affections, as Edwards, and others 
with the reason ; and some diffuse it generally through all the faculties. 

6. In this work it is regarded as a distinct faculty of the mind, 
original and co-ordinate with the will, affections, and intellect, and 
springing from the same original forces as they. 

c. We inquire first, Is there a conscience ? secondly, What faculties 
are requisite that a conscience may be ? thirdly, What is the conscience ? 
fourthly, What is the office of the conscience ? fifthly, What is the ground 
and limit of responsibility ? 

Is there a Conscience ? 

d. That there is such a faculty of the mind as the conscience is a 
truth universally felt and acted upon. The experience of every race of 
men, in every condition in life, whether European or Indian, African or 
American, and whether civilized or savage, and of every age, whether 
in ancient or modern times, shows the existence and exercise of this 
faculty. 

e. That the conscience belongs to mankind, and is not a mere refine- 
ment of Christianity, or a luxury of civilization, is affirmed in the Epistle 
of Paul to the Romans, where he says (chap. ii. 14, 15) of the Gen- 
tiles, "These, having not the law, are a law unto themselves; which 
show the work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also 
bearing witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else 
excusing one another," showing that even heathen men have a conscience 
within them, which they exercise according to the light they have. 

f. The question is not whether men decide right in the exercise of 
their consciences, or whether conscience, as it exists in the universal 
human mind, enjoins a right rule of duty ; nor whether conscience is a 
perfect faculty of the mind ; but whether the conscience decides at all or 
not, and whether it is a faculty at all of the human mind. That it is a 
faculty of the mind, and that it does habitually sit in judgment on human 
actions, are facts to which every man's experience bears testimony. 

g. Will it be said that the diversity of the dictates of conscience in 
different individuals is evidence that there is no conscience ? It is 
replied, that the diversity of the reasonings of men, and the different con- 
clusions to which they come, might just as well prove that man has not 



608 AUTOLOGY. 

the faculty of reason as could a diversity in the decisions of the con- 
science prove that there is no conscience ; for it is the reason that gives 
the rule of duty ; the conscience only enjoins it after it is given. Man 
has a reason, though it may be feeble, and perform its functions imper- 
fectly ; and so he has a conscience, though it may perform its office defec- 
tively. Our intellectual faculty performs the office of cognizing, just as 
our moral faculty performs that of being susceptible to and enforcing the 
rule of moral action, though each may do its respective work in a veiy 
inadequate manner. 

h. That good men have a conscience is very manifest, both from 
their own experience and their lives, the record of which we find in all 
writings, both sacred and secular. Says the apostle Paul, in 2 Cor. 
i. 12, " Our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience, that in 
simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace 
of God, we have had our conversation in the world." And in the mouth 
of one of the characters of Shakspeare we find this : — 

"I feel within 
A peace above all earthly dignities — 
A still and quiet conscience." 

And that bad men have a conscience there are many proofs from the 
same sources. 

i. Says the Psalmist, of the wicked, " There were they in great fear 
where no .fear was," clearly alluding to the apprehensions awakened by 
a guilty conscience. And Job says of the wicked man, He " travaileth 
with pain all his days ; a dreadful sound is in his ears ; in prosperity the 
destroyer shall come upon him ; he knoweth that the day. of darkness is 
already at his hand, for he stretcheth out his hand against God." 

j. We find also in Shakspcare's Richard the Third, Act I., Scene 4, 
these words put into the mouths of two murderers : — 

1 Murderer. How dost thou feel thyself now? 

2 Murderer. 'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me. 

1 Murderer. Remember onr reward when the deed's done. 

2 Murderer. Zounds ! he dies : I had forgot the reward. 

1 Murderer. Where's thy conscience now? 

2 Murderer. O, in the Duke of Gloster's purse. 

1 Murderer. When he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience 
flies out. 

2 Murderer. 'Tis no matter; let it go : there's few or none will entertain it. 

1 Murderer. What if it come to thee again? 

2 Murderer. I'll not meddle with it; it makes a man a coward : a man cannot steal 
but it accuseth him ; a man cannot swear but it checks him; 'tis a blushing, shame- 
faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills a man full of obstacles : it made 
me once restore a purse of gold, that by chance I found : it beggars any man that, keeps 
it: it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man 
that means to live well, endeavors to trust to himself, and live without it. 



TIIE CONSCIENCE. 609 

k. Many similar and more palpable instances might be cited. Says 
the author last quoted, — 

" Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind ; 
The thief doth fear each bush an officer." 

And that good men have consciences Paul affirms when he says, 
" Herein do I exercise myself, that I may have a conscience void of 
offence toward God and toward men." And again, Shakspeare says, — 

"What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted ! 
Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, 
And he's but naked, though locked up in steel, 
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted." 

And' thus we might trace the history of every sinner and every saint, 
•and find in each the testimony of experience to the fact that there is a 
conscience. 

I. As certainly as a man perceives any relation of human beings to 
each other, so certainly does he perceive a moral character in their 
actions, and that whether he discerns the right rule of duty or not. 
"Whether men act in accordance with or in contravention of the perceived 
moral quality, is not the question ; but the fact whether they do discern 
such moral differences or not is the question ; and that they do, is a fact 
as well settled by observation, consciousness, and history, as any 'fact 
can be. 

m. The Hindoo mother who casts her child to the crocodile do.es it 
from a dictate of conscience, as much as did the Christian mothers who 
brought their children to Christ that he might bless them. The devotee 
who casts himself under the car of Juggernaut, does it as conscien- 
tiously as the truest Christian missionary hazards his life in conveying 
the gospel to the heathen. The act of the one proves the existence of 
a conscience as much as does the other. 

n. Will it be said that such facts prove conscience to be worthless ? 
It is replied, So also would the fact that the heathen believes the earth 
to be flat, while the Christian believes it to be round, prove equally well 
that the human reason is good for nothing ; if it is good reasoning in the 
one case, then is it also in the other. 

o. But the value or correctness of the decision is not at all the thing 
now in issue ; the simple question is this : Is there a conscience ? It is 
a fact that there may be a darkened conscience as well as a benighted 
intellect ; yet the darkness in which they exist does not prove that they 
have no existence. The existence of conscience is one thing, the cor- 
rectness of its decisions is another thing, just as the existence and the 
culture of the mind are two things. 

p. Moreover, that there is a conscience our consciousness gives the 
77 • 



610 AUTOLOGY. 

strongest testimony ; it commands the whole man ; it is stronger than 
any other feeling of the mind. Its approbation can bear up amidst 
reproach, and scorn, and persecution, and its condemnation will crush 
the strongest spirit. Pride, vanity, gain, covetousness, ambition, all 
have overrun it, but all in turn have been overrun by it. It has been 
too powerful for them all, and lives to take vengeance on those who dis- 
regard it, and to sustain those who are persecuted for righteousness' 
sake. It always triumphs, either in the happiness or woe of its subjects ; 
happiness if they obey, wretchedness if they disobey. 

SECT. III. WHAT FACULTIES MUST BE IN ORDER THAT A CON- 
SCIENCE MAY BE. 

a. We have already passed beyond the Will, which is the executive of 
the mind, and the Affections, which are the people, subjects, and inhab- 
itants of the mind, constituting its empire. We have passed the Intel- 
lect, which is the legislative power, cabinet, and diplomatic agency of 
the mind, and now come to the Conscience, which is the judiciary of the 
mind, both legal and equitable, aud which completes its whole structure 
and organism, making it a complete person. 

b. The affections are the subjects of law, the intellect can enact law, 
and the will can execute it ; a judge of law is still wanted to govern the 
will in its executive and administrative acts. That judge is the con- 
science. 

c. (1.) We have already found the will complete in itself, a perfect 
agent, free, efficient, and independent, having its own spring of action, 
its own intelligence, its own individuality, its own end of action or 
law, and its own liberty in itself; being thus absolute in itself, self- 
moved, self-controlled, self-directed. (2.) It is now ready to act, being 
self-poised, in perfect liberty and independence, on its own central self-law 
and end of action. It stands free in self-mastery and in self-control, 
resting on its own original, and self-active, and self-directed power. 
(3.) Its liberty consists in this — that it is self-poised on its own self as 
the end of its own action. (4.) The will disposes of itself in its willing, 
and that is its end and spring of action. (5.) In that it has essential 

. and indestructible liberty, a liberty depending on nothing out of itself, 
but a liberty entirely within itself, whose essence consists in having an 
essential activity in itself, and in having itself as its own law and 
end in all the acts of choice, and in actually disposing of itself in 
every act of its choosing. 

d. (1.) Now, of such a will thus active, thus free, thus self-dispos- 
ing, and thus effective, having its own efficient power of action in itself, 
its own liberty and its own law, its own self-control and its own self- 



THE CONSCIENCE. 611 

disposition in itself; (2.) of such a will, able to choose or refuse, 
competent for choice or for contrary choice, "under the same and under 
all circumstances, at the same and at all times and in all places ; (3.) of 
such a will, having, as we have seen, the whole world of the affections 
for its subjects and its empire, and having the whole intellect with all 
its faculties for legislators, law-makers, counsellors, secretaries, couriers, 
cabinet and private advisers, and about to enter upon its command, ac- 
tion, and empire ; (4.) of such a will, we say that it is capable of being 
a responsible agent, and is by its own nature a fit subject of moral law, 
and moral obligation, and that it ought not to go into its field of action, 
to exercise there its liberty in choosing and refusing, without having 
laid upon it a moral law by which its. choices, already free and inde- 
pendent, are to be guided. 

e. If the will had not thus its freedom already in itself, then it would 
not be a fit or a competent subject of moral law, for a moral law does 
not confer freedom; it is not a constituent of a will, it is not an element 
of its freedom, but is a law over a will already existing and already 
free, and which is, therefore, a fit subject of a moral law. None* but a 
free will can be called upon by any rightful authority to obey a moral 
law, for the simple reason that none but a free will is competent to 
obey a moral law. Obligation can be laid only where there is freedom, 
and this we shall find, in fact, to be the case. 

f. (1.) We have also found the affectional nature complete, forming 
the population of the will's empire. They are various, and numerous, 
and distinctive. (2.) They are each peculiar and individual, involun- 
tary and selfial ; they have each their own law of action, and have no 
capability of any other action. (3.) They each seek involuntarily and 
necessarily their own gratification, and have no regard or consideration 
for one another. (4.) They are purely appetitive and irrational, and 
seek only and solely their own ends, irrespective of consequences, either 
natural or moral. (5.) They have neither prudence nor any sense of 
right and wrong. Therefore these affections, these untaught inhabit- 
ants of the will's empire, need and naturally demand for themselves an 
authoritative governor, which they find in the will ; an intelligent law- 
maker, which they find in the intellect ; and an equitable judge, which 
they find in the conscience. 

g. The affections, then, demand a conscience to judge between them ; 
and without these affections a conscience would have nothing to do if it 
did exist, any more than a judge would have anything to do in a land 
where there were no inhabitants. A mind empty of affections would 
be like a land empty of inhabitants, desolate, and solitary, and waste. 
A king might hold a sceptre, but it would sway only in air ; a legisla- 
ture might enact laws, but they would lie unapplied on the statute-book ; 



612 AUTOLOGY. 

a judge might pass judgment, but it would be on imaginary and theo- 
retical cases only. 

h. But, if these three faculties already exist, viz., will, affections, 
and intellect, then a conscience springs up and grows out of the ele- 
ments of the soul, and that from a necessity of its nature, and by means 
of the same original forces of life and intelligence by which the other 
faculties themselves were produced. Thus the mind is vital and dynam- 
ical in its life structure and growth. 

i. (1.) Moreover, a will or ruler existing, and affections as subjects 
to be governed existing under it, laws and a legislative power, and an 
ethical judge are necessary. (2.) And in accordance with this we have 
also found the intellect a complete knower, with its consciousness per- 
vading all, its reason forming ideas from the facts of consciousness, 
and with them cognizing external objects through the sense. (3.) This 
intellect, inhering in the will, gives it all competency as to knowledge. 
The knowing of the intellect is both absolute and conditional, and by 
it the person is charged with knowing for himself all right rules of duty. 
(4.) The intellect, as we have seen, is competent to know man, God, 
nature, and their relations, and to ascertain for itself what is truth and 
what is duty, so that the person possessing it may properly be held 
responsible for knowing truth and duty. (5.) Hence a conscience may 
fitly be placed over such an intellect, and its possessor be justly re- 
quired to obey its behests. 

j. To know truth and to have free will to choose the truth, is to be 
already under obligation to obey truth. Hence conscience is naturally 
demanded by those faculties, and is rightly placed over them. Will, 
affections, and intellect necessitate a conscience as much as do these 
same powers in any political state demand a judge and courts of law. 

k. And the essential activity and the essential intelligence which are 
the original and primordial elements of the mind, and which, by their 
own involuntary and necessary life and action, have produced first will, 
then affections, and then intellect, here, rising above and flowing beyond 
all they have produced before, combine in producing conscience, the last 
and crowning faculty of the mind, completing the whole soul. 

I. These are the relations of the several faculties of the mind to 
each other, both vital and dynamical, and the completed mind is one 
living whole. It is not made up of independent and unhomogeneous 
parts, each having a distinct and separate life, but the whole mind grows 
from the same vital principles, and has but one life ; and when its whole 
life force has grown and developed itself to its completeness, then it 
ceases to grow, and remains in its perfectness, just as does the body. 

m. The mind has just so many faculties, and no more, for the same 
reason that the body has so many members, and no more. It is as absurd 



THE CONSCIENCE. 613 

to ask why the mind stops with its two primordial elements, and its four 
faculties growing vitally and developing themselves dynamically out of 
them, as to ask why the body stops with precisely the number of mem- 
bers and senses which it has. The one answer to them both is, that so 
they are complete, and nothing more is needed. 

n. As the conscience comes last in the creative and logical order of 
the faculties, so it comes also chronologically last in the mind's action ; 
it acts after the intellect, the affections, and the will have acted, and 
decides upon all. 

o. It is a distinct and independent faculty of the mind,, separate, en- 
tirely, alike 'from the will, the affections, and the intellect, and is the 
moral law over them all, and the judicial and ethical authority over the 
whole man. And this brings us directly to the question, " What is the 
conscience ? " 

SECT. IV. WHAT IS THE CONSCIENCE? 

a. (1.) The conscience is the product of the essential activity and the 
essential intelligence, as they come forth, the one from its development 
into the affections, and the other from its development into the intellect. 
They now combine again and form the conscience. 

b. We saw, at the beginning of this work, that the mind had the two 
primordial elements of essential activity and essential intelligence, the 
one as the mind's power of beginning to act, and the other of beginning 
to know ; that these two elements combined, forming the self and the will 
as centre and substance of the mind, in which all the other faculties 
inhere as qualities in their substance. 

c. Then we found that first, after the will, the essential activity went 
forth springing out of the substance will, forming the affections as qual- 
ities inhering in the will. 

d. Next we found the essential intelligence rising up and springing 
forth, forming the intellect and all the knowing faculty of the mind, 
and branching out into the antennas of the senses, and all this as so 
many qualities inhering in the will. 

e. Now, lastly, as the highest and divinest faculty of the mind, wo 
come to the conscience, the completing and crowning development in 
the mind's structure. It, like the will, is made up of both essential 
activity and essential intelligence, and stands at the opposite extrem- 
ity of the mind's structure. 

f. As the mind began in will, so it ends in conscience. As its first 
faculty was will, so its last is conscience. They are its two poles, con- 
science at the north, pointing eternally to the star of truth, and enjoin- 
ing right and duty. ' 

g. The conscience has in it both susceptibility and intelligence, both 



614 AUTOLOGY. 

knowledge and feeling 1 ; and it has also authority, commanding* the right 
and forbidding the wrong, approving and disapproving, excusing or 
accusing, acquitting or condemning. It is thus the judge, holding the 
court of law and equity of the soul, and is made up by the combination 
of all its preceding faculties. That is, the conscience grows out of 
the essential intelligence and essential activity, after they have formed 
and passed through the other faculties. 

h. Thus, first, in the mind's formation, the essential activity, and 
essential intelligence combine to make the will ; and then separate and 
expand, the one into the affections and the other into the intellect ; and 
then lastly, recombine with all the force they have gained, to. make the 
conscience, the last and completing faculty of the mind. The conscience 
thus formed has intelligence and susceptibility ; that is, it has suscepti- 
ble intelligence, the intelligence which susceptibility to the right gives, 
wherewith to perceive and feel the right. And it has also obliging 
authority, or power to urge the observance of the right, or a moral im- 
perative to command the right when known. 

i. Conscience has not only susceptibility, but also imperative- 
ness. By the susceptibility it feels the force of moral differences, 
and discerns them ; and by the imperativeness it gives the sense of 
obligation, and enjoins obedience to the right, and by the suscepti- 
bility it is also capable of giving approval or remorse. But in order 
that a conscience may be, there must be, first, a free will ; second, 
a reason; third, the affections — the first as the executive of a 'moral 
law, the second as giving the original idea- of the right and the rule 
of duty, and the third as forming the subjects or citizens over whom 
and for whose benefit the rule of right is to be administered and 
enforced. And over these faculties already existing a conscience 
arises by force of the essential intelligence and essential activity 
which produced them, and no conscience can exist until these faculties 
first exist. 

(2.) a. The conscience is sometimes confounded with the will ; i. e., 
it is made a constituent of the will, and that constituent which alone 
gives it liberty. This we have already seen to be an error ; for a free 
will, a will already free, is the first faculty requisite in order that a 
conscience may be. 

b. The conscience is a judge to somebody, the judge that is to decide 
upon the law that is to govern his actions. If nobody exists, then there 
is no occasion for either law or judgment. The conscience thus far is 
the judge over the will's liberty already existing, and not the force 
which gives the will its liberty. If the will is not free, then no moral 
obligation can be laid upon it ; but precisely because it is already free 
it is a subject of moral law, and under obligations to keep it. It is, 



THE CONSCIENCE. -615 

therefore, the free will already in existence that demands the conscience, 
and not the conscience that makes the will. 

(3.) a. So also is the conscience sometimes confounded with the 
affections ; but this is also an error, for the conscience is not affectional, 
but ethical. It is because affections exist and need a law equitably 
enforced over them, as we have already seen in the last section, that a 
conscience is called for. The affections are all individual, and seek each 
its own gratification. -They have no self-control, no prudence nor equity 
in themselves ; hence they need a ruler and a rule, and a judge over 
them. These are furnished by the will, the intellect, and the conscience, 
respectively. 

b. The conscience is not, therefore, an affection, but an ethical judge, 
and it lays its injunction to do right upon the will in its choices and decis- 
ions among the affections. It judges between them, and applies the law 
of reason to them. If it were an affection, it would be simply one of 
them, only another affection, another citizen amongst them, needing itself 
a ruler, a rule, and a judge as much as they do ; but now it is not an 
affection, but above an affection, an ethical judge (for its nature is ethical, 
and not affectional), and is placed over the affections to judge of the will's 
actions in reference to them. And it is because it is not of their nature, 
but above their nature, that it is placed over them. It is not, therefore, 
an affection, but an ethical judge. 

(4.) a. Conscience is sometimes erroneously regarded as the idea 
of the right; or the idea that something is right. But this is not the 
conscience, nor a function of the conscience, but is a work of the rea- 
son. 

b. The idea of the right is purely a comprehension by the reason 
from the original facts of consciousness. The idea that something is 
right is a condition without which the conscience could not act, and 
which must exist before the conscience ; but this is produced by the 
reason, as we have seen. That there is such a quality as right and 
wrong in the actions of all competent, rational, and moral beings has 
alread3 r been shown under the Reason, as an original idea of the mind, 
springing from a primary fact of consciousness. 

c. We there saw that the consciousness of our individuality, giving 
us the fact of our rights of person, furnishes the reason with the material 
out of which it forms the necessary and universal idea of rights as they 
pertain to all individuals; and hence the distinctions of right and wrong 
as a quality of all human action. 

d. Now that this idea is not the conscience, nor the product of the 
conscience, is evident from the fact that its existence is implied as 
already a fact in every act of the conscience. The acts of the con- 
science all proceed on the idea of the right as already extant and known. 



616 AUTOLOGY. 

The idea of the right, therefore, can neither be the faculty nor the prod- 
uct of the conscience. 

(5.) a. The conscience is sometimes also regarded as a known and 
settled rule of duty. But the error here is the same as in the preceding 
instance. A known rule of duty is that to which the conscience is 
susceptible, and which it enforces as a moral obligation. Hence a 
known rule of duty is neither the faculty of the conscience nor the prod- 
uct of the conscience. Moreover, this rule of action is often variable, 
while the voice of conscience is invariable. 

b. "The rule of right or duty must in this respect be distinguished both 
from the idea of the right and the voice of conscience. The rule of 
duty or right is that knowledge of our actual relations and duties which 
we learn from reason, experience, tradition, public sentiment, or the 
word of God, or any acknowledged standard of truth. As a known 
rule of action it is simply our highest intelligence, or maximum of light 
with regard to human relations and actions. 

c. But while the idea that there is a right is necessary, universal, and 
invariable, the rule of right as here given may be variable, nay, must 
ever vary according to the degree of intelligence possessed ; and hence 
what is regarded as right or wrong, as sacred or profane, in one place 
and time, may be regarded as precisely opposite at another place and 
time. And this accounts for the fact that men so differ in their acts, 
while they so agree in their conscientiousness. 

d. As the idea that something is right is universal and necessary, so 
also the susceptibility to the rule of right thus known and the sense 
of obligation to obey it are universal. All men everywhere, without 
exception, feel this, " I ought to do right," and feel guilty when they 
do wrong. This moral susceptibility to the rule of right, and this 
moral imperative to obey the rule of right, are universal and invariable, 
while the rule of right will vary according to man's comparative intel- 
ligence. 

e. To form an idea of the right, and to cognize a rule of right, are 
the functions, not of the conscience, but of the reason, and should not 
be confounded with the functions of the conscience. It is to avoid 
this confusion that they are here set forth and discriminated ; they belong 
to the reason, and not to the conscience. The conscience is not 
responsible for the truth or error, the wisdom or folly, the usefulness or 
injuriousness, of any known rule of duty, for it is the office of the reason 
and the whole intelligence and experience of the soul to ascertain the 
rule of duty as true or false, wise or unwise, benevolent or malicious, 
beneficial or injurious. 

/. But it is the office of the conscience to feel and enforce the known 
rule of duty as above ascertained, and there its office ceases. If the 



THE CONSCIENCE. 617 

rule of duty is unwise, is false, is injurious, it is the reason that is to 
correct it, and not the conscience ; and when the reason by observation, 
experiment, and argument, has corrected the rule of d-uty, then it 
is the office of conscience to feel its force, and to enjoin its observance 
upon the whole man. 

6. a. The voice of conscience, do right, is unvarying, universal, and 
necessary, the same always and everywhere. Men deny the use and 
trustworthiness of conscience, if not its existence altogether, because 
they sec men's consciences impelling them to different and often opposite 
courses of conduct. But if it be remembered that it is the idea that 
something is right and the sense of obligation to do right, which are 
invariable, while the rule of right, as it is found out by men's reason, 
changes perpetually according to the degree of their intelligence, then 
it will be seen that it is the intelligence that changes, and not the sense 
of obligation. 

b. It is the reason that varies its rule, and not the conscience that varies 
its command. Even the reason does not change the idea that something 
is right, but only its knowledge as to what is light. That something is 
right is an eternal idea of the reason ; that the right ought ever to be 
done is an eternal injunction of the conscience. The rule of right — that 
is, what particular thing in each case ought to be clone — is a something 
that men may differ about, and any man may be uncertain of; but the 
conviction that they ought to do the right when known never changes. 

7. a. Thus the conscience stands out unique and alone as an ethical 
capability both active and passive, imperative and susceptible ; neither 
will, nor affections, nor intellect, but distinct from them all, and consti- 
tuting a faculty by itself, whose action is involuntary, and guided by the 
idea of the right and the known rule of right given us by our reason ; 
it is no part of the work of conscience to find out these ; but when they 
are found out and furnished to the conscience by the reason, then it is the 
nature and office of the conscience to feel and enforce them upon the will. 

b. This discrimination between the idea and the rule of right, and the 
sense of obligation to obey the right, is most vital, as its neglect always 
leads to confusion. 

c. The conscience is not the reason, nor the affections, nor the will, 
but springs out above thern all. It does not cognize, nor affection, nor 
choose, and is therefore neither of these faculties. But it is a conscious- 
ness of the right and of obligation, and as such it approves the right 
and condemns the wrong. 

d. It is true that a completed conscience, in order to be competent to 
its functions, must, like a completed will or a completed affection, have 
all the necessary accompaniments, as both the idea and the rule before it. 
It must have an idea of the right already in the mind, and a knowledge 

78 



618 AUTOLOGY. 

of some rule of right already provided and in the possession of a capable 
being, before it can act, before it can give the sense of obligation to 
obey such idea and rule of right, or approve for obeying them, or con- 
demn for disobeying them. The conscience has thus its genesis in the 
midst of all the other faculties of the mind, after they are complete, and 
is thus discriminated from them, and is both later in time and higher in 
character and office than any or all of them. 

e. It is produced by the same original and primordial elements that 
produced the other faculties, viz., essential activity and essential intelli- 
gence, but not till after they had produced them ; for if they had not 
produced them first, — i. e., if they had not first produced the will, the 
affections, and the intellect, — there would have been no need of producing 
a conscience, no office for it, nothing for it to do. But having produced 
them, there must needs be a conscience also, to rule over them ; and 
hence these original elements, when they had produced the other faculties, 
produced also the conscience, and produced it by the same necessary 
working of* their nature as that by which they produced the other facul- 
ties ; for these primary elements act always blindly, and by necessity of 
their nature, and work until they have fully developed themselves and 
all that is in them. 

f. The last and highest development of these elements is the ethical 
faculty, or conscience. When they have produced it, then have they ex- 
hausted themselves, and manhood is complete. And this conscience is a 
capability of our ethical, and not of our volitional, affectional, or intellect- 
ual nature ; and in its acts it is an emotion and not a choice, an ethicizing 
and not an affeetioning, an obliging and not a comprehending. Indeed, 
it is that in our ethical nature which corresponds to the idea of the right 
in the reason, and the rule of duty in experience, and which sits in per- 
petual judgment on the acts of the will. In these respects it is most 
properly and universally known as the conscience, and as such we pro- 
pose now more fully to discuss it by considering its pecular functions. 

SECT. V. WHAT IS THE OFFICE OF THE CONSCIENCE ? 

a. We now take up more at large the office of the conscience, and 
reply, that conscience is our Ethical Faculty, and as such has two 
elements and functions; viz., (1.) It is a susceptibility, or Moral 
Sense, whose office it is to feel and discern by feeling the moral quality 
of actions. (2.) It is a censor, a judge, and a moral imperative whose 
office it is, — 

1. To enjoin the right. 

2. To justify and reward obedience to the right with its approbation 
and sanction. 



THE CONSCIENCE. 619 

3. To condemn and avenge the violation of the right with its dis- 
approval and remorse. 

(1.) The Conscience as a Susceptibility, or Moral Sense. 

a. The office of this element of the conscience is to feel, and thus 
discern, the moral quality of actions, as a susceptibility ; the conscience, 
when the idea of the right is presented to it, feels it, and, feeling, discerns 
it. So, when a specific rule of action, as, "Thou shalt not steal," is 
given to it, it feels the truth and force of it, and discerns it as a rule of 
duty to be observed. 

b. If there were no moral susceptibility, or moral sense, of this kind, 
all the ideas and all the rules of right and duty in the world might be 
announced ; but they would mean nothing, have no effect, produce no 
emotions, and have no power over the man : they would be a mere dead 
letter, and would pass unfelt and unappreciated, undiscerned and un- 
heeded. This moral sense, or susceptibility to the force of moral quali- 
ties in action, is, then, an essential element of the conscience, and one 
that marks and distinguishes it from all the other faculties. 

c. The conscience, as a mo'ral susceptibility, is an original faculty of 
the mind distinct from all other properties. As it is neither an intel- 
lectual nor a volitional faculty, so it is also not an affectional one. As it 
does not perceive nor cognize, like the intellect, or choose, like the will, 
so it docs not crave, like an affection or an appetite. As it is neither 
intellectual, nor volitional, nor affectional, so it is not appetitive. 

d. It does not crave an object in itself, but feels it as right and urges it as 
a moral obligation. It does not feel gratification when the thing it urges 
is attained or performed, but it gives its approbation to the person for ob- 
serving it. It has no end in itself to gratify, nor does it terminate in an 
object, but it is set over the will, and its office is to feel for it the force of 
moral differences, and enjoin the will to regard them ; approve it if it docs 
regard them, and condemn it if it docs not ; and then its action ceases. 
The object which it requires, the act which it would have done, 
does not give it specific gratification, as an act of gain would gratify 
covetousness, or an act of kindness would gratify our benevolence ; but 
it feels the force of the right, gives the feeling of obligation that the will 
should do it, and, if done, gives approbation, and, if not clone, gives 
disapprobation and remorse. 

e. It does not crave, but obliges, and when disregarded it does not 
waste with hunger or madden with appetite, but recoils from a wrong 
done into regret, condemnation of the self, and remorse ; and that not 
from hunger disappointed or appetite unfed, but for faith broken, obliga- 
tion violated, right trampled upon, and sanctity profaned. 

f. We thus regard the conscience as clearly a susceptibility or moral 



620 AUTOLOGY. 

sense, and we see that this moral sense is indispensable to it as a fac- 
ulty. Without it we should neither feel nor discern, nor regard moral 
differences at all, but should ignore them- altogether. No intelligence, 
or ideas of right or rules of action, would have power over the mind, 
if there were not a sympathetic susceptibility within to respond to it in 
feeling, and thus to see and feel its force. But this is not the whole of 
our ethical faculty. We found also that the conscience is 

(2.) A Moral Imperative. 

a. As the conscience as an ethical faculty of the mind is susceptible, 
so also is it imperative, and springs directly from the elements of the 
will, after they have passed into affections and intellect. It is a spon- 
taneous and necessary growth from the essential individuality and essen- 
tial liberty of the will, as a self-active and self-conscious and competent 
agent. 

b. From proprietorship and freedom having taken on reason and affec- 
tions rises the consciousness of obligation, which takes the fixed form 
of a permanent ethical nature, both susceptible and imperative', and be- 
comes at once and forever the obliging sentiment over the will. The 
conscience has thus its genesis and birth in the essential elements of the 
will, and inheres essentially in it. Its roots, so to speak, penetrate to 
the centre, and are of the essence of the will ; yet it is all distinct from 
it. The conscience is not a foreign and extraneous force, superinduced 
unnaturally upon the will, but is of the same elements, and springs from 
the same identical essences, as the will, viz., essential activity and 
essential intelligence. 

c. The essential activity and essential intelligence, which combine 
to give essential individuality, and which, recombining with the last, give 
self-law, and again combining with self-law give liberty, and lastly by 
recombination give the will as substance of the mind, and then blossom out 
iu affections and intellect, — these same elements still live and act when 
springing from the will, and taking on somewhat of both affections and 
intellect, they combine to generate and give birth to the conscience ; so 
that the conscience and the will are of the same essence, and elements, 
and life-spring, as are all the other faculties of the mind. 

d. Yet the conscience, like the affections and the intellect, is entirely 
distinct from the will. It neither enters into the structure of the will, 
nor gives it any of its proper or constitutive powers, nor does it perform 
any of the operations or functions gf the will ; but it is a growth and 
development upon and over the will already complete. It does not 
choose, but obliges ; it does not feel or give liberty, but it feels and gives 
consciousness of right and wrong, of innocence and guilt, and gives 
obligation to liberty. 



THE CONSCIENCE. 621 

e. The conscience is imperative ; it commands, but it is not from per- 
sonal authority or individuality, like the will, but from the obligations of 
law and equity. The conscience is not a ruler or an autocrat, but a judge 
and a chancellor. It proclaims the obligations to obey law because the 
law is right, as the highest knowledge of the soul. It does not set up 
mere authority ; it is the law to which the king of the soul must himself 
submit ; hence it is as the voice of God. Its whole power and authority 
are ethical, and not imperial, autocratic, or affeetional ; hence it is as 
distinct from the will as it is from the affections. 

1. a. The first office of the Conscience is to feel and enjoin the right ; 
i. e., to be susceptible to the rule of duty, and to enjoin upon the will 
the observance of that rule of duty ; and this it enjoins simply as ethical 
judge. It enjoins the right only by authority of the right. The right 
because it is right, is its only reason and its only power. It neither has 
nor employs argument ; it has no casuistry, no policy ; but only enjoins, 
" Do right," unqualifiedly and unvariably do right; " do right though the 
heavens fall." Conscience is no trimmer, no time-server; it is no conser- 
vative, but it is always radical ; it only points to God and the higher law 
at the judgment, and enjoins solemnly, sternly, "Do right, do right." If 
you "swear to your own hurt, change not," do right and trust God. This 
is the great office of the conscience ; it never consults expediency, 
prudence, pleasure, or advantage, but ever and sternly enjoins, Do right. 

b. Here it is that conscience is so potent. It has an unchanging- 
voice — " Do right." The eternal idea that something is right and some- 
thing is wrong hangs over it like the cloud of the divine presence ; and 
the rule which the highest intelligence of the soul is able to find, is be- 
fore it as the rule of duty, and this rule it steadily enjoins ; to wit, — 

" Thou shall not kill, 
Thou shall not steal, 
Thou shall not bear false witness, 
Thou shall love thy neighbor as thyself ; " 
and all other rules of right. 

c. The conscience enjoins these commandments as rules of duty ; and 
it # enjoins them simply as duties and because they are right. And 
though the rule of duty in some instances may vary, still the idea of the 
reason that something is right, and the susceptibility of the conscience 
to the right, and the sense of obligation of the conscience to obey the 
right, are universal and eternal ; and hence it is that the voice of con- 
science, steadily uttering this one injunction, "Do right," comes ulti- 
mately to be regarded as the voice of God. 

d. The conscience does not concern itself about the rectitude or wis- 
dom of the rule of right ; whether it be correct or not, or wise or not, is 
all the same to it ; the reason must see to that ; but it is responsible for 



622 AUTOLOGY. 

always enjoining the right, and in enjoining this " do right," be it what 
it may, always, everywhere, at all costs, ever, eternally, " do right ; " in 
this injunction conscience is the voice of God. 

2. a. The second office of the conscience is to approve the right. As 
its first office is to enjoin the right, so its second office is to approve 
obedience. The conscience is an approver. When its command to 
regard the right is obeyed, then it gives the consciousness of its appro- 
bation. It pronounces "well done," and this is the highest blessedness 
and the sublimest dignity of the soul. 

" One self-approving hour whole years outweighs 
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas." 

Nothing is like the peace and joy of a "still and quiet conscience," 
reposing intelligently on duty done and obligations acquitted. 

b. And he who feels the conscience as the voice of God, pronouncing 
approval, may with assured trust appeal to God, who " is greater than the 
conscience," and feel that that approval is both prophetic and promissory 
of future blessedness. He may hear the inquiry of inspiration, "Who 
shall ascend into the hill of the Lord ; or who shall stand in his holy 
place?" and hear the answer, "He that hath clean hands, and a pure 
heart ; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully, 
he shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the 
God of his salvation," and he shall feel that such is his character and 
his reward. 

3. a. The third office of the conscience is to avenge the right when 
it is violated. Conscience is an avenger. When its commands are dis- 
obeyed and wrong is committed, passion is gratified, covetousness and 
ambition, pride and vanity, are yielded to, then the conscience remon- 
strates, reproves, condemns, and stings. Remorse is the last state of 
a violated conscience, in which it becomes literally that fearful thing, 
"the worm that dieth not;" it gnaws and corrodes, cankers and 
poisons, forever and ever. Such is conscience. 

b. And man's moral nature is thus a story built upon his volitional, 
affectional, and intellectual nature, quite different from either, and over 
them all. It raises him to the sphere of accountable and immortal souls, 
subject to God's law and to the rewards and retributions of eternity. 
Thus conscience is that moral susceptibility which feels the force and 
the right of the highest truth, the highest benevolence, and the highest 
love of which the human mind is capable, and impels man to their attain- 
ment and exercise. It feels the right of the highest excellences in char- 
acter and action, and gives the sense of obligation to possess them. 

c. It thus stands at the head of all our faculties, overlooking and com- 
manding them all. It is the authority above will which the will must 
obey, and the susceptibility above all affections, which must give to 



THE CONSCIENCE. 623 

them their limit. Conscience is above all other susceptibilities of our 
nature by right of its intrinsic excellence, for it regards the right, and 
has no ends in itself to gratify. 

4. a. The conscience is the law of laws, and it is above all the other 
faculties in its nature and office. Its office is to supervise and give 
moral law to the whole man. It is lawgiver, for notwithstanding the 
reason furnishes the idea of the right, and also finds out the rule of the 
right, yet it is the conscience alone, which gives moral sanction and 
authority to these laws ; they are, as we have seen, without force 
until they are felt and discerned by the susceptibility or moral sense 
of the conscience, and without authority until they are enjoined by 
the moral imperative of the conscience ; and hence there is no impro- 
priety in familiarly calling the conscience lawgiver — the lawgiver of 
the soul, though, strictly speaking, it is the law enforcer ; or it is the law 
of the soul, though properly the reason gives law to the soul. Indeed, 
it is in this sense the higher law of our nature, by which all our conduct 
must be governed. 

b. The law which the conscience enforces is the law of laws, because 
it gives law to the other laws of our being. It is ethical law, while 
they are only natural laws. It is law to freedom and reason, while 
they are law to mere blind necessary force. It is ethical law both to 
man's free will and to his affections ; i. e., to the will in its government 
of the affections. 

c. It is a lawgiver to man's free will by a power out of and above 
the will. It is a law not constitutive of the will, but a law over the 
will, already constituted and complete, and has in it an ethical element 
as its reason and animus, while the law constitutive of the will has 
merely natural and necessary forces in it. The law of conscience — i. e., 
the law which conscience enforces — is a law for free, rational souls, 
while the laws that constitute souls are all necessary laws. The con- 
science also gives laws to the will to be used in relation to the affections; 
and hence it is a law, an ethical law, over the affections, while the law 
in the affections, and constitutive of them, is mere necessary force. 

d. For instance, it is the law of our being that our love of gain is 
gratified by the acquisition of property ; but conscience, as a higher law, 
says to the law of gain, "Hitherto shalt thou come, and no farther," 
curbing it within the limits of the right. It is the law of our being that 
our love of approbation is gratified by the commendation and the flat- 
teries of our friends ; but conscience, as a higher law, puts its check upon 
this, and commands us to do right, irrespective of approbation or of dis- 
approbation. 

e. And the same is true of all our affections, appetites, or pas- 
sions ; they each involve a law of our being ; but conscience is the 



624 AUTOLOGY. 

higher law, that reigns over them, and holds them all in check. And 
just so of the will ; it has both an inherent activity, and also an inherent 
law over that activity, yet constitutive of itself, making it a free will. 
But conscience is the higher law, not constitutive of the will, but above 
it, and above the affections, that reigns over them all, holding them all 
in check, and imposing upon them all the restraint and guidance of a 
moral and unselfish obligation. 

f. And precisely at this point are the words of the divinely inspired 
philosopher, Paul, in that scientific Epistle to the Romans, in point. 
Says he, "I see another law in my members warring against the law 
of my mind." That is, I find a law in my affections, appetites, pas- 
sions, which craves a gratification for each one peculiar to itself; and all 
these peculiar laws in the being of each of these several affections, appe- 
tites, and passions " war against the law of my mind ; " i. e., the law 
of my conscience, which would limit them not to what would simply 
gratify them, but to what is right. 

g. And as these affections and appetites can be gratified only by 
an act of the will permitting them or choosing them, and as they can 
be restrained only by the will's refusing them, the conscience is the law 
to the will, laying its injunction upon it, and commanding it to govern 
the affections according to the ethical law of duty. 

h. And having thus the highest idea of the right, and the highest 
rule of right, the highest susceptibilty to the right, and the highest 
imperative to the right, with the highest approval of doing the right, 
and the keenest condemnation of doing wrong, the conscience stands at 
the head of all the offices of the soul, holding its court as supremo judge, 
commending the right and condemning the wrong in all our actions. 

i. Wo thus have the conscience in its distinctive nature and office 
before us. Its perpetual command is, " Do rigid," and this command- 
ment is an ethical injunction. What the right thing to be done is, the 
. intellect alone can learn by means of its idea of the right applied in 
acts of cognition to the objects that are bronght before it. 

j. The existence of a conscience, therefore, implies a will already ex- 
isting, distinct from it, self-active and free. It implies also affections 
and intellect, and is built upon them ; it grows out of them. 

k. Without the conscience the self would have no moral law, and 
could feel no obligation, and would not be responsible. All its action 
would be a mere exercise of strength and arbitrary authority. With- 
out a conscience man could be an individual, and could have a social 
nature; but the possession of a conscience endowing him with an ethical 
nature, raises him at once to the dignity of an ethical personality and 
an accountable subject of the divine government. 

I. Without a moral susceptibility, right and wrong would be unmean- 



THE COXSCIEXCE. 625 

ing terms. Without a moral imperative, duty and obligation would 
signify nothing ; but with a conscience these have a meaning. Man 
is able to comprehend the right and feel the force of it, and becomes 
responsible to a moral law. 

m. We have now all the faculties of a complete mind before us; First, 
a Will ; second, Affections ; third, Intellect ; fourth, a Conscience. 
These, with their constituents, make up a complete personality. Will 
alone is a mere ego. The intellect is its cognitive faculty ; the affections 
are its susceptibilities to the things known. The conscience is its ethical 
law, and all these constitute a complete person. 



SECT. VI. WHAT IS THE RULE OF DUTY WHICH THE CONSCIENCE 
MUST EVER AND, OF NECESSITY RECEIVE AND ENJOIN ? 

a. The conscience necessarily is not a will, nor a heart, but possesses 
the properties, in some degree, of both ; i. e., it is a susceptibility and 
an imperative." Its office, therefore, is to suscept and to imperate ; 
yet in this susception and in this imperation it acts of necessity, having 
no choice or intelligence of its own. 

b. The conscience is shut up to an elective affinity for the rule of duty 
when it is presented to an ethical sanction of its rectitude, to an impera- 
tive enjoining of its observance when it is thus brought before it, and to 
the inflicting of a sense of guilt and of the sting of remorse when it is 
disregarded. * 

c. What, then, is that rule of duty which the conscience must of neces- 
sity receive and enjoin ? The reply is, that — 

The rule of duty is the conclusion to which the highest reason and the 
highest intelligence of the whole intellect come, after the maturest inquiry 
and reflection practicable. This rule relates alike to the truth of the rule 
of duty and to the trustworthiness of the author of the rule of duty. 

d. This rule, we mean to say, is the ultimatum to the conscience and 
to the man ; for when this is done, then there is no other possible rule 
of action for the soul. The human intellect, thus exercised and employed, 
must of necessity be the highest possible authority for truth, and the 
highest possible lawgiver for the soul. The reason is of necessity the 
last and highest judge of what is true and what is false, and that whether 
man speaks, or God speaks, or nature speaks. Every communication 
made to the human mind is of necessity submitted to the judgment of 
that mind as to its truth and authority. 

e. If man testifies to us, we receive or reject the testimony as we see it 
true or false. Purported revelation to us of facts, principles, or precepts 
from heaven, we must of necessity judge of in the same way, and receive 
or reject them accordingly ; i. e., we must know that a revelation is true in 

19 



626 AUTOLOGY. 

itself, or that its author is intelligent and true. If we find appearances, 
laws, or forces in nature, we judge in like manner of them also. 

/. Thus, clearly, the conscience must regard the dictates or conclu- 
sions of the highest reason and knowledge of the intellect, as its rule of 
duty, and it must of necessity receive and enjoin it upon the soul. And 
this is the case also even if the rule given by the reason and intelligence of 
the soul is not, after all, the true rule of duty, but is a mistaken one. The 
conscience has no alternative ; it must receive and enjoin that which is 
really and truly the dictate of the highest reason and intelligence of the 
soul at the time. 

g. The reason and intelligence of the soul may see cause to amend this 
rule, and then the conscience will receive and enjoin the rule so amended. 
But whatever is the dictate of the highest reason and intelligence for the 
time being, that the conscience must and will receive and enjoin at such 
times, and that whether in reality the rule so given be either right or 
wrong. 

h. After the reason and the highest intelligence of Socrates have led 
him to establish a rule of duty for his conscience, according to the best 
knowledge and the maturest reflection he could give, there may come to 
him a revelation from heaven giving him Jesus Christ and his gospel. 
With these facts and truths before him, the reason and intelligence of 
Socrates will change, enlarge, modify, and reconstruct the rule of duty, 
and then this conscience will receive and enjoin this reconstructed rule 
of duty upon his will as the rule of life and action. 

i. But the revelations of Heaven, as well as the communications of 
men, are of necessity submitted to the judgment of the human mind 
as to their truth and authority. God says to man, " Come now, and 
let us reason together." The human mind cannot receive, even if 
claimed to be from Heaven, that which its own highest reason and intel- 
ligence reject, but would deny that it came from heaven. 

j. But is not man bound to receive the word of God on God's authority? 
Certainly. — But whether there is a God, and whether this word claimed 
to be his command is really his, can be settled only by the reason itself. It 
is because God knows that men can, if they will, both know and receive 
the truth, that he reveals it unto them. 

k. It is because man's highest reason and intelligence do compel him 
to believe in a God, first, that he receives and indorses the revelation 
of God in the Bible, and feels under obligation to believe and act upon 
it. God calls men to receive the truths which he presents, and 
which their highest reason and intelligence cannot deny. God him- 
self addresses truth to man's highest reason and intelligence, and sub- 
mits to their decision as to what is truth ; if men decide wrong, they 
must take the consequences. Thus, clearly, in every case the dictates 



THE CONSCIENCE. 627 

of man's own highest reason and intelligence are, and of necessity must 
be, the rule of duty which his conscience must enjoin ; and that, too, 
whether it be the true and right rule of duty or not. 

1. Men may be ignorant, they may be prejudiced, they may be covet- 
ous, sensual, jealous, malignant, revengeful, or selfish in other forms; 
and these evil dispositions and these facts in the mind and in its sur- 
roundings may warp and mislead the reason so- that it will form a false 
rule of duty ; yet that rule, when formed, will bo enjoined by the conscience 
until a better rule is given to it by the reason. The conscience may 
recoil from receiving and enjoining a rule of duty which is given to it ; 
but it does so only when the reason and highest intelligence falter and 
dissent from it. 

m. Passion and prejudice often suggest a rule of duty which the 
highest reason and intelligence (the better judgment, as we call it) 
do not indorse ; they may be silenced, and yield for the time being, 
but when the passion and the prejudice are passed away, the reason 
and intelligence of the mind utter their voice, and correct the false 
rule of duty ; then the conscience receives the amendment, and enjoins 
the rule of duty thus given, and rejects and repudiates the one which 
passion and prejudice had before hurried upon it. 

n. It stands thus established that the rule of duty which the con- 
science must always of necessity receive and enjoin, is that which is 
given by the dictates of the highest reason and intelligence which the 
mind is capable of exercising at that time. This rule it must of neces- 
sity receive and enjoin until a better is provided. 



SECT. VII. ARE ALL MEN UNDER OBLIGATION TO HAVE THE TRUE 
LAW OF THE RIGHT AND THE TRUE RULE OF DUTY, SO THAT 
IF THEY DO WRONG THEY DO IT AT THEIR PERIL ? 

a. To this the answer is, that both God and man do hold all men under 
obligation to know the true rule of duty. God and men demand that 
men shall always know, recognize, and obey certain great first prin- 
ciples of justice, equity, and faith, and will not hold them guiltless, but 
will condemn them, if they be either ignorant or regardless of them. 

b. To wit, God demands that men shall not be ignorant of that 
which is the substance and subject-matter of the Decalogue of Moses ; 
as, "Thou shalt not kill;" "Thou shalt not steal;" "Thou shalt 
not bear false witness," and the rest; and of that which the prophet 
meant when he said, " What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do 
justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ? " and of 
this by the apostle : " Pure religion and undefiled before God and the 
Father is this : To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and 



628 AUTOLOGY. 

to keep thyself unspotted from the world ; " and this also : " What- 
soever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things 
are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, 
whatsoever things are of good report, if there be any virtue, and if 
there be any praise, think on these things." 

c. Now, these are first principles, which lie so deeply imbedded in the 
human soul itself, that rfo one can be excused for not knowing, recogniz- 
ing, and acting upon the substantial meaning -and import of them. It is 
by virtue of the unacquired possession of this primary and essential 
knowledge that Paul affirms, that "they who are without the [written] 
law are a law unto themselves, their conscience also bearing witness, and 
their thoughts the mean while accusing or else excusing one another. 

d. This essential knowledge is an essential element of man's account- 
ability ; without it man could no more be a responsible being than he 
could without a will, or without affections, or without an intellect, or 
without a conscience : hence this knowledge is given to every man, not 
as innate ideas, but as the consciousness of the nature of his own soul 
and its faculties ; this knowledge is the reason's own comprehension 
of the facts of the being and the processes of the mind. 

e. This knowledge is rather intuitive, original, and spontaneous, than 
reflective and acquired ; and therefore possessed by all men in all ages 
and countries; and therefore, again, all men hold all men, — civilized, 
savage, Christian, infidel, or pagan, — as under obligation to have and to 
act upon this primary knowledge, and will not excuse them nor hold 
them guiltless if they have it not, or fail to act upon it. 

f. It is true there are*rules of duty that lie remote from first princi- 
ples, and involved in the web and network of human relations, which 
all men have not the means of knowing, and of course are not respon- 
sible for not knowing ; but the first principles and elements of all truth 
and knowledge all men have in their own rational natures, and they cannot 
cease to know them without ceasing to be ; therefore God, and men 
will require, and always and everywhere do require, all men to know 
them, and will judge all men according to them, acquitting and reward- 
ing, or condemning and punishing, according as they obey or disobey 
them. 

SECT. VIII. WHAT IS THE GEOUND AND LIMIT OF MAN'S 
RESPONSIBILITY ? 
« 
a. In order to be justly responsible, man must have the full power of 
choice, both efficient and occasional ; that is, he must have a self-active 
and self-governing will. He must have sensibilities or affections, he must 
have an intellect, he must have a conscience, he must be in the midst of 
the external objects of choice. 



THE CONSCIENCE. 629 

b. But with all these constituents of responsibility there is another 
question important ; and that is, To what faculties of the mind may a law 
or commandment be addressed ? Wherein does man's responsibility par- 
ticularly lie ? May a law be given, or a command be addressed, to the 
intellect, to the affections, to the conscience ? No ; none of these are in 
themselves subjects of law or command ; they are all the servants of the 
higher faculty. And what is that faculty? It is the will. The will 
alone is the self and person, and, armed with its attributes, is alone tin; 
proper subject of law and command. 

c. And now what is the maximum, and what is the minimum, of the 
will's responsibility? We reply, The maximum responsibility of the will 
is the full extent of its capability when in possession of all its attributes 
of bod} 7 , intellect, affections, and conscience. Its obligation extends to 
all its effectiveness arising from all these sources. Its minimum respon- 
sibility extends to its simple power of choosing. 

d. May, then, a moral law require a man to do all he is capable of 
doing ? It may of course. 

e. May a moral law require of a man what he cannot do ? It may 
require him to choose what he ma} 7 lack the physical power to perform. 
I may be required to choose to save a fellow-being from disease or 
casualty whom it is utterly out of my power to save, and be guilty of 
his blood if I do not choose to save him. 

* f. The will is the sole faculty to which a law or command may be 
addressed, and to choose is the sole function of the will. It may have, 
or may not have, physical power to effect the thing chosen ; but to choose 
it it has power, and cannot be without this power ; and when it has 
chosen it, it has performed its whole office as a will. 

g. If effective faculties have not been given the will to carry out its 
choices, it, of course, is not bound to effect them ; but this can be no rea- 
son why it should not choose them. The will is always capable of choosing 
and always bound to choose right, according to the known rule of duty, 
for it has the efficient power of choice in itself, and the occasional power 
of choice in the affections, intellect, conscience, and external objects ; 
hence it can always choose a thing, whether it can perform it or not. 

h. It is, therefore, always proper that man should be comnianded to 
choose right ; and as it is proper to address a command to no other fac- 
ulty, this is the import of every command — viz., choose. When it says, 
"choose," it sometimes means "do;" as, "Choose ye whom ye will 
serve ; " and man may be commauded to do a thing when it is meant, 
and only can be meant, that he should choose the thing. 

i. The inquiry then arises, lias man performed his whole duty when 
he has chosen ? Not if he has power to perform, nor if he himself has 
deprived himself of the power he had, or might have had, to perform. 



630 AUTOLOGY. 

Man's responsibility extends, first, to choosing 1 all that is right, and 
secondly, to executing' all that he has, or might have, the power of ex- 
ecuting. 

j. The office of the conscience thus clearly is to feel the force of a 
rule of duty, and to enjoin its observance upon the will. It confines 
itself to acts of choice ; it takes no note of things but as right and wrong ; 
and as these can be affirmed only of the acts of a free will, it takes note 
only of them' in accusing or excusing them. 

SECT. IX. IS THE MAN JUST BEFORE GOD WHO OBEYS THE 
DICTATES OF HIS OWN CONSCIENCE ? 

.a. This question may seem superfluous in view of the preceding dis- 
cussion of the conscience. Yet, as this question is perpetually raised in 
practical life, it may be well to give it a separate and specific considera- 
tion. 

b. In endeavoring to answer this question we must carefully discrimi- 
nate between the imperative of the conscience and the law of the right 
which the conscience enjoins ; between the fact that the conscience 
always does, and always must, enjoin the highest known law of the right, 
and that law itself. That the conscience does oblige a man to obey the 
highest known rule of duty, and approve him if he does obey it, and 
condemn- him if he disobeys it, is most true; and that men are both 
bound and justified by this, is also true ; but there are limitations here 
which we must not fail to observe. 

c. First, the rule of duty must be right; i. e., the highest known 
rule of duty must actually be the highest and truest which it was pos- 
sible for the man to obtain, or else the enforcing of it by the conscience 
will not justify the man who acts according to it. Every man is bound 
to employ his best reason and his best means of information, and to em- 
ploy his utmost industry in gaining knowledge, in order to ascertain and 
settle the true rule or law of duty. 

d. The man who conscientiously follows a false rule of duty, when he 
might by proper and practicable study, reading, and thought, have learned 
a right rule of duty, is as guilty as he would be if he had followed that 
same false rule, with his conscience opposing it. All men are bound to 
know the right rule of action when it is by any possibility within their 
reach. 

e. To plead, therefore, that we acted conscientiously, when we have 
acted on a wrong rule of duty, which we with a culpable indolence and 
an idle ignorance had adopted, is to deceive ourselves ; our conscientious- 
ness is in such cases not only no justification, but an iniquitous cloak of 
sin and crime. 



THE CONSCIENCE. 631 

f. But, secondly, not only must the rule of duty be the highest pos- 
sible attainment of our faculties and our opportunities, but the conscience 
itself, as the enforcing disposition, or the moral imperative, must be in a 
pure, living, and healthy state, and not in a demoralized, dissipated, or 
dead condition. 

g. Paul speaks of a conscience " seared as with a hot iron." Now, 
such a conscience will not enforce any law or rule of action, however 
good, or it will approve or disapprove, without reference to the nature 
of the rule of action before it. It will pay no regard to the fact whether 
the rule is one given by the man's highest or his lowest intelligence, 
but will approve or disapprove without reference to either, and according 
to the wilfulness or passions of the man. 

h. That the approval of a man's conscience may be a justifica- 
tion before God and man, two things are necessary. First, the con- 
science, as a moral faculty, must be in a pure, healthy, and active 
condition. Secondly, the highest intelligence and the greatest industry 
of the mind must have been exerted in ascertaining the true rule of 
duty ; these two things existing and combining, the good conscience in 
which a man thus acts will acquit him before God and man of guilt, even 
though the thing which he thus does may afterwards be found to be 
wrong. 

i. But here arises another point: the person who thus acts with a 
pure conscience and an intelligent rule of duty must yet encounter other 
liabilities. If he is still found t« be wrong in his action, he is, though 
acquitted of guilt and saved from condemnation, not saved from 
evil consequences, but only from guilt, and that " so as hy fire ; " i. e., 
he loses all which his error could destroy — "he is beaten with few 
stripes ; " yet they are stripes. If his error, though made in all good 
conscience, has led him into evil courses, he must, of necessity, suffer 
the natuial consequences of pursuing such a course. 

j. As the men and women whom Paul, in his conscientious but false 
and misguided zeal, dragged to prison and chains, had to suffer those 
evils and that injustice, so the same mistaken course would carry with 
it evil consequences to himself, making him unconsciously, yet certainly, 
a hard-hearted and relentless persecutor. 

k. As he who swallows poison, supposing it to be healthful food or 
medicine, must, though he is not guilty of suicide, yet suffer the death 
which is the natural consequence of taking poison, just so he who 
conscientiously pursues a course which he supposes to be right, but 
which is actually wrong, must inevitably suffer the natural and ruinous 
consequences of that wrong course : though he will not be condemned 
as guilty, yet he will be obliged to suffer all the evil results of his 
wroncr course. 



632 AUTOLOGY. 

I. The conclusion of all this, therefore, is, that there is no safety for 
any soul but in keeping- the conscience pure,. quick, and active ; and in 
keeping the mind well informed from reason and revelation, and from 
observation and experience : by so doing the soul may in all cases 
escape guilt, at least ; and if successful in always finding the right rule 
of duty, will escape evil also, and experience only good. The only 
safety lies in heeding Christ's words, when he said, " Strive to enter in 
at the strait gate, for many shall seek to enter in and shall not be able/' 
and "What I say unto you I say unto all, Watch." By thus being 
willing with a pure conscience to do the truth, and by thus watching to 
find the truth, and thus striving to enter the gate of truth, may we hope 
for mercy, safety, and life. 



CHAPTER IT. 

CONSCIENCE QUESTIONS. 

SECT. I. WHAT IS MAN, IN VIEW OF HiS ORIGINAL FACULTIES, 
UNDER OBLIGATION TO BE AND TO DO? 

a. We have already found the will a competent and effective agent, 
having its own spring of action, its own end of action, and consequent 
liberty and power in itself. 

b. We have found it a free and independent, capable and self-master- 
ing will, and, as such, the centre and essence of the man, making him a 
person, and, as such, a fit subject of moral law. 

c. We have found that moral law in the conscience. 

d. We have set that law over the will to be the rule and guide of its 
choices and decisions when it comes to enter upon the field of its activity, 
and to ascend the throne of its power. 

e. We have seen that conscience is not an element of the will, that it 
does not enter into it, or in any way constitute the nature of the will, 
but that the will is complete in its being, and complete in its freedom 
and power, without it and before it, and- that the conscience is a faculty 
separate, distinct, and generically different from the will, and by its 
nature and office becomes the law of the will's action after it is a 
complete will, and enters upon its life-work as such. 

f. The will, now armed with freedom and power, and provided with a 
moral law for its guidance, is prepared to enter the domain and ascend 



THE CONSCIENCE. 633 

the throne of its own legitimate empire, and rule as a free sovereign and 
rightful monarch. 

g. Now, this person is enclosed in a material body adapted to its use 
in this sensuous state of existence ; the senses and organs of the body 
being the instruments through which and by which the mind acts and 
performs all its functions. 

h. What, therefore, man is under obligation both to be and to do is 
obvious. Man was made to be free in will, pure in heart, competent in 
intellect, and quick in conscience. 

i. In other words, man was made to be a holy being, and not a 
sinner. lie was made to do justly, to love mercy, and walk humbly 
with God. 

j. His conscience was made to be the supreme judge of all acts and 
states of the soul. His intellect was made to be the legislator for the 
soul's action. His heart was made to be the empire, and the affections 
the subjects, of the will's dominion, over which it should exercise the 
laws enacted by the reason, and pronounced right and binding by the 
conscience. - The will was made to be the free monarch of the soul, 
subject himself to law, and executing the law as provided by the reason 
and conscience over the empire and citizens of the heart. Such a man 
plainly ought to be righteous in act, and pure in heart, and benevolent 
in all his life's course and work. 



SECT. II. WHAT AS A FACT, IS MAN'S ACTUAL CONDITION AND 
HISTORY? 

a. As a fact, man is a transgressor; as a fact, he has a fallen nature; as 
a fact he is alienated in heart from virtue and from God ; he is selfish 
and perverse both in spirit and in action. To this his own conscious- 
ness boars witness,, and to this all history bears testimony. Man's own 
lips accuse the race tu which he belongs of an all pervading selfishness 
and sin. 

b. While the will is as yet free, and the conscience retains its nature 
and its office, and while the intellect discerns truth, and the heart has 
its affectional nature, still the man, as a whole, is fallen. The heart is 
corrupt, and by means thereof the intellect and the conscience are dis- 
regarded, and the will yields to the seductions of sin. While the heart, 
as we have seen in Part II., is the seat of depravity and sin, yet the 
whole mind in all its faculties is fallen. 

c. Man is fallen, but still responsible ; a moral bankrupt, but still a 
proprietor, and answerable for his conduct. His free will, his intellect, 
"and his conscience still make him a man, and hold him to answerableness 
for all his deeds, and especially for his evil and impure heart, and dis- 

80 



634 AUTOLOGY. 

obedient life. The heart, though corrupt, is a heart still, and the reason, 
the conscience, and the will hold their places in the economy of the 
mind ; and man is, therefore, bound, notwithstanding his fallen condition, 
to love and serve God and men in holiness and in truth. 



SECT. III. HAS MAN, IX VIEW OF HIS FALLEN CONDITION, A RIGHT ■ 
TO CLAIM THAT GOD SHALL PROVIDE SALVATION? OR CAN HE 
DO ANYTHING THAT WILL LAY GOD UNDER OBLIGATION TO 
MAKE SUCH PROVISION? 

a. This question is an anachronism. It is behind the history of God's 
providence. The work of salvation was finished from the foundation of 
the world. Redemption was provided as early as man was created. 
Redemption is as old as creation, and without the former the latter never 
could in God's wisdom have been. "God so loved the world that he 
gave his- only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not 
perish, but have everlasting life ; " and this Lamb of God was slain, and 
the work of salvation was all finished, from the foundation of the world. 
Redemption is, therefore, as old as creation. God's plan and purpose 
of redemption were coeval with his plan and work of creation. 

b. The question, therefore, whether man in his fallen condition might 
claim, or whether anything that man might do could give him a right to 
claim, that God should provide salvation, is simply impertinent, being 
already superseded by God's provision to save all that come unto him 
by Jesus Christ. God Mas anticipated all the work of salvation by this 
provision of grace made before the foundation of the world; and it is 
because of this provision that men do come unto God for salvation. 

SECT. IV. IS REPENTANCE THE WORK OF THE CONSCIENCE? 

a. Repentance implies a knowledge of the truth given by the reason, 
and a conviction of the truth given by the conscience ; but knowledge 
and conviction are not repentance, but only antecedents of it, for "the 
devils believe and tremble;" i. e., they have both a knowledge and a 
conviction of the truth. But repentance proper and specific consists of 
sorrow of heart for actual transgression, and repugnance to all that is 
depraved, and the renunciation and putting away of both by the will. 

b. Now, man is under obligation to exercise repentance in both these 
ways. It is his duty to be sorry for actual deeds of sin, "and to put 
them away, and he is also under obligation to abhor and put away his 
corrupt and depraved heart, and also to do right. 

c. Thus repentance relates both to a state and an act of the soul. 
Man is as much bound to abhor the latter as to be sorry for the former. 



THE CONSCIENCE. 635 

d. Moreover, actual sin consists as much in consenting to remain 
depraved as in doing overt acts of transgression ; and doing right con- 
sists as much in renouncing and putting away the impurities of the 
heart as in doing outward acts of righteousness. 

e. We see, therefore, that repentance, in its broadest meaning, consists 
in being sorry for actual violation of the moral law, both in thought and 
deed, and in breaking off from these sins by righteousness, and also in 
revolting from, renouncing, abhorring, and loathing, and breaking away 
from, the depravity of the heart, and actually doing right. 

f. Thus repentance, in its largest sense, has four operations, and 
employs the four faculties of the mind ; viz., the intellect, the conscience, 
the heart, and the will. With the intellect man knows truth and the 
requirements of duty ; with the conscience he feels and enforces truth 
and duty upon the heart ; with the heart he feels contrition and sorrow 
for sin ; and with the will he executes and enforces upon the heart the 
rule of dut} r given by the reason and enjoined by the conscience ; and 
thus renounces and breaks off sin, and turns to righteousness. 

g. This is repentance, and is both a change of purpose and a change 
of heart, both of which are essential to the conversion of the soul. 



SECT. V. IS MAN UNDER OBLIGATION TO REPENT ? 

a. The reply is, that man is under obligation to repent. To repent 
is to control, change, and purify the heart. Man is under obligation to 
control, change, and purify his own heart, because he has a free will as 
the executive of the soul with all its affections ; and because he has a 
reason to enact the laws of truth ; and a conscience as an ethical judge 
to give him the sense of obligation, and to enjoin the duty of so con- 
trolling, changing, and purifying the heart. 

b. The will is, therefore, the supreme autocrat of the soul, and has 
authority to command all the affections of the heart to obey the law of 
reason and the behest of the conscience ; therefore is the will, which is 
the essence of the man and the person, under obligation to control, 
change, and purify the heart. 

c. The reason of this obligation to change and purify the heart con- 
sists not in the fact that man has the efficient power to regenerate his 
own soul, but in the fact that he can choose to change and purify it. 
He is, therefore, under obligation to choose to have his heart changed, 
and to see to it that it is changed. 



636 AUTOLOGY. 



SECT. VI. WILL CHOOSING TO REPENT, AND CHOOSING TO CHANGE 
AND PURIFY THE HEART, ACTUALLY 'PRODUCE REPENTANCE, AND 
ACTUALLY CHANGE AND PURIFY THE HEART ? 

a. The reply is, that the will has the right and the authority to con- 
trol the heart with all its affections, and is under obligation to exercise 
that authority, and to command the obedience of the affections to the 
law of the reason and the injunctions of the conscience ; but this, when 
done, does not actually change and purify the heart. 

b. The heart is too depraved, too rebellious, too corrupt to be purified 
by a mere resolution of the will, or the unaided voice of the reason, or 
even the solemn injunction and warning of the conscience. 

c. Nothing but the effectual persuasion of the Holy Spirit, taking of 
the things oft Christ and showing them to the soul, can win it to repent- 
ance, holiness, and life. 

d. The will, by means of the rule of the reason and the injunctions 
of the conscience, can change its own purpose and exercise its own au- 
thority over the heart, but never really succeeds in purifying it. 



SECT. VII. IF CHOOSING TO REPENT AND PURIFY THE HEART 
DOES NOT GIVE REPENTANCE AND PURIFICATION, WHAT, THEN, 
IS MAN UNDER OBLIGATION TO DO ? 

a. The free will must officially and formally, as the rightful sovereign 
of the heart, surrender it with all its affections in their impure, rebel- 
lious, and depraved state, not stopping or trying to correct or purify 
them, into the hands of its God and Saviour. 

b. For while it cannot give nor compel the obedient and loving sub- 
mission of the affections to Christ, it can, as an official act, formally and 
officially surrender itself and its empire, in its state of rebellion, anar- 
chy, and sin, into the hands of its God and Saviour, and then call for 
grace to help in time of need. 

c. And then and there God so called on, and so surrendered to, will, 
of his own free mercy, for Christ's sake, come to the soul's rescue, 
for the provisions of grace are all ready, and were prepared before the 
foundation of the world. 

d. The free, autocratic will may and can, as an act of sovereignty, 
thus officially surrender up the heart while in a state of rebellion. Nay, 
it must so surrender it, for it never can change it. It only hands it 
over to grace; when, therefore, man surrenders his heart, he must call 
on God for grace to help, to renew, to atone, to forgive, and to save. 

e. The free, rational, ethical soul must then go directly to its God 






THE CONSCIENCE. 63T 

and Saviour, surrendering the heart in its state of rebellion, acting in 
accordance with the sentiment of the precious hymn, — 

" Just as I am, without one pica, 
But that thy blood was shed for me, 
And that thou bid'st me come to thee, 
O Lamb of God, 1 come, I come. 

" Just as I am, and waiting not 
To rid my soul of one dark blot, 
To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come." 

f. Though the will cannot effect the salvation of the soul, yet it can 
choose it ; and though the heart does not love, but hates repentance, 
and holiness, and submission to God, and righteousness of life, yet the 
reason can see the wisdom of these things, and the conscience can give 
the sense of obligation to do and to attain these things, and the will in 
its own liberty can choose these things, and as an official and authorita- 
tive act it can surrender the whole army of the rebellious, impure, and 
hostile affections of the heart, unchanged, in all their rebelliousness, 
their impurity, and their hostility to God, and call on hirn to subdue 
them. 

g. And this is all it can do ; this it is under obligation to do ; and so 
doing, grace to save will be given. 

SECT. VIII. HOW, THEN, CAN THE HEART BE CHANGED AND 
PUKIFIED ? 

a. The answer is, By the grace of God. God, by his Spirit wielding 
his truth, can change and purify man's heart and convert his soul, and 
thus do what man by his unaided faculties cannot do. 

b. Says Christ, "He (the Spirit) shall take of mine and show them 
unto you;'' i. e., the Spirit shall take of the truths of the gospel, the 
facts of Christ's death and atonement, and so present them to the rea- 
son, and conscience, and heart, as to convince them of sin, of righteous- 
ness, and a judgment to come, and so as to produce a godly sorrow 
for sin. 

c. He can so quicken by these means the whole mind, and so move 
it, that it will not rest in conviction of sin, consciousness of guilt, and 
contrition of heart, penitence, humiliation, and fear ; but under these in- 
fluences the whole soul will revolt from the dominion of sin, the heart 
will abhor, the conscience will condemn, the reason will repudiate, and 
the will will renounce and cast off sin, and the whole man be converted 
to God. 



638 AUTOLOGY. 

d. God changes the heart and converts the soul in precisely the way 
men would do it themselves if they could ; viz., by enforcing the highest 
rule of duty discerned by the intellect and enjoined by the conscience 
upon the heart, and thus conforming the heart unto it. 

e. This, God by his Spirit can do, and that in perfect accordance with 
the liberty of the will, the highest intelligence of the reason, the solemn 
injunction of the conscience, and the native spontaneity of the heart. 



SECT. IX. DOES THE LAW OF LOVE BIND GOD TO CONVERT ALL 
MEN, AND SAVE THEM AT ALL COST AND WITH EVERY POSSIBLE 
EXPENDITURE OE GRACE ? 

a. The reply is, that the highest character is self-formed character ; 
hence God leaves men the liability to fall, that it may stimulate them 
to self-development, culture, and defence. 

b. Were it known that God would inevitably persuade all men to 
life, all would be left for God to do, and the result would be, that there 
would be no element of self- formation in the souls so saved ; the very 
means would defeat the end. 

c. Hence God makes abundant provision for saving men, and employs 
more than sufficient persuasion and influence. Yet, because he will not 
take the work entirely out of the soul's own hand, he leaves it liable to 
neglect, resist, and deny the grace of life, and perish. 

d. God is not bound, therefore, by love, to save all souls at all costs ; 
for the attempt to do so would defeat itself, and might defeat the salva- 
tion of any soul at all. 

e. A gospel of unmixed mercy would be no mercy, and a moral force 
of simple grace would be at once forceless, graceless, and demoralizing. 
It could not produce virtue, nor develop strength, nor give purity, nor 
stability of character. A soul thus dealt with would not be renewed. 
but would still be in a state of moral weakness and servitude to sin ; it 
would not be saved, but lost. 

f. Man is the responsible and the co-operative cause of his own salvation, 
while God by his Holy Spirit is the gracious and efficient cause of man's 
salvation ; the co-operation of both is necessary to the saving of the soul. 

g. God, therefore, is not bound by love to save all souls at all costs, 
and he will not. He left the angels, who kept not their first estate, to 
fall ; he left the first created pair in Eden to fall ; and he will leave all 
liable to fall by their delinquencies. Nay, it is a part of God's disci- 
pline and means of saving to let men fall, if, after due information, and 
kindly warning, and reproof, they will, and then help them in- a way to 
stimulate their own efforts. 






THE CONSCIENCE. 639 



SECT. X. WILL GOD EVER CEASE TO MAKE EFFORT TO SAVE THE 
SOULS OF MEN, EVEN THOUGH HE IS NOT BOUND BY THE LAW 
OF LOVE TO DO SO, AND EVEN THOUGH THEY FALL AGAIN AND 
AGAIN, AND FALL ULTIMATELY INTO ETERNAL DEATH ? 

a. The reply is, that God himself has made this an historic and not a 
logical question. The Bible leaves the wicked in a state of banishment 
from God. It reveals no grace after the fatal date at which the wicked 
go awa} 7 from the judgment condemned into everlasting punishment, 
and the omissions of the Bible are fearfully significant. 

b. That it is possible for God to offer grace to the lost in eternity 
cannot be denied, but logically it may be said that should grace be 
offered to the lost in the eternal world, we have no assurance that it 
would be accepted. It is more than probable that lost souls would treat 
the grace of life, if offered there, as they already had treated it while 
here in the world. 

SECT. XI. CONSCIENCE POWER. 

a. i The power of the conscience is diverse from all other kinds of 
mental power. It is not the power of liberty and choice, it is not the 
power of intellect or knowing, but it is a power rising out of them all, 
and above them all, and superior to them all, and controlling all the 
other faculties and activities of the mind. 

b. Conscience Power may be defined as a moral imperative, enjoining 
the right and prohibiting the wrong ; but it is more than this ; it is a 
discerner of moral differences ; it is a rew'arder of righteousness and a 
punisher of transgression. 

c. What the apostle says of the word of God which is the rule which 
the conscience enjoins may be said also of the conscience itself — indeed, 
this passage may be regarded as a personification of the conscience; 
viz., that it — i. e., the conscience — " is quick, and powerful, and sharper 
than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of 
soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the 
thoughts and intents of the heart; neither is there any creature that is 
not manifest in his sight ; but all things are naked and opened unto the 
eyes of him with whom we have to do." 

d. Hence the conscience is a moral magistrate, holding censorship 
over the whole soul,- and having authority to enjoin the right and con- 
demn the wrong ; and this office it holds by right of its own worthiness, 
importance, and sacredness as the Ethical Faculty of the soul. It re- 



640 AUTOLOGY. 

strains or stimulates the intellect and the affections ; it is the will's 
lawgiver and ethical judge. It controls selfishness and covetousness, 
sensuality and ambition ; it masters pride and vanity, and commands 
all to the right. 

e. Its power and authority are inalienable and indestructible. If it is 
overridden by passion, appetite, prejudice, or even by violence, still its 
rightful authority abides, and the throne of judgment remains. It never 
dies, but wields an indestructible sceptre of approval or disapproval, of 
reward or of remorse, over the soul forever and ever. 

f. The sleepless vigilance and fearful subtlety of the conscience are 
graphically depicted in the following lines from Young's " Night 
Thoughts : " — 

" O treacherous Conscience ! while she seems to sleep 
On rose and myrtle, lulled with siren song; 
While she seems, nodding o'er her charge, to drop 
On headlong appetite the slackened rein, 
And gives us up to license, unrecalled, 
Unmarked ; — see, from behind her secret stand, 
The sly informer minutes every fault, 
And her dread diary with horror fills. 
Not the gross act alone employs her pen ; 
She reconnoitres fancy's airy band, 
A watchful foe ! the formidable spy, 
Listening, o'erhears the whispers of our camp, 
Our dawning purposes of heart explores, 
And steals our embryos of iniquity. 
As all rapacious usurers conceal 
Their doomsday-book from all-consuming heirs, 
Thus, with indulgence most severe, she treats 
Us, spendthrifts of inestimable time ; 
Unnoted, notes each moment misapplied ; 
In leaves more durable than leaves of brass, 
Writes our whole history ; which death shall read 
In every pale delinquent's private ear, 
And judgment publish — publish to more worlds 
Than this; and endless age in groans resound." 



PART V. 

PEESONALITY, 



CHAPTER I. 

PERSONALITY AS A COMPLETE AUTOLOGY. 

a. Autology completes itself in giving- all the elements and the full 
development of all the faculties of a perfected personality, and its rela- 
tion to all being-, to all action, and to all knowing, and in applying 
itself as the first fact of liberty, the first object and only key of knowl- 
edge, to all objects and all operations of knowing, making a philosophy 
of being not only possible, but inevitable, and showing itself as the only 
true Dynamics and the only true ontology of the universe. 

b. As such, it is also the only true ground for the right criticism of 
all works of metaphysical science. 

c. The system of mental philosophy contained in this book builds and 
completes the personality of man. The question may be here raised, 
What is Personality ? and the reply is, Personalit}'' is perfected manhood, 
complete in all mental faculties and all bodily organs. 

d. We have seen that man has a free will ; but personality is more 
than free will. We have, seen that man has affections ; but personality is 
more than both will and affections. We have seen that man has intellect, 
with consciousness, reason, and sense ; but personality is more than will, and 
affections, and intellect. We have seen that man has a conscience ; but 
personality is more than will, affections, intellect, and conscience. We 
have seen that man has also a body, in which all his faculties are en- 
wrapped ; but personality is still more than will, affections, intellect, con- 
science, and body : personality is all these combined in one living 
unity, one free, affectional, intellectual, ethical, and sensuous whole. 
All this we have already found. 

81 641 



642 AUTOLOGY. 

e. We have found also that the personality begins its being and its 
knowing in the two primordial elements — essential activity or life, and 
essential intelligence or consciousness. We have found that these two 
elements combine and produce a third clement, viz., essential individu- 
ality. We have found that this third element recombines with the first 
two, and produces a fourth, viz., essential law, so that essential activity, 
essential intelligence, and essential individuality, combine to produce 
essential law. Then this fourth element, viz., essential law, recombines 
with these preceding three, and gives essential liberty. Then this last 
element, essential liberty, combines with essential activity, essential in- 
telligence, essential individuality, and essential law, to produce essential 
free will ; and this is the substance, centre, essence, and life of the mind. 

f. Then we have found that this will and substance, having its own 
activity, law, and liberty in itself, takes on an affectional nature, growing 
out of the activity of the will ; that the affections are qualities inhering 
in the will, and springing from it, as a centre of life, and are not mere 
constituent elements of it ; and that they surround it as an atmosphere, 
and that they are also the fielti and subjects of the will's action and 
government. We have seen that the intellect springs out of the essen- 
tial intelligence, and is a quality inhering in the will, as the centre of 
manhood, having consciousness, reason, and senses. 

g. We have seen that the conscience is a quality of the will, spring- 
ing from the two elements, essential activity and essential intelligence, 
combined, after they have formed and are fraught with the other facul- 
ties, and that it is the last and crowning faculty of the mind. 

h. Here we have seen that the developing power of the elements of 
the mind come to their limit ; here they have exhausted themselves, and 
completed their work; and here the mind, having taken on body, rounds 
itself up into completeness and entirety, being one living whole, a vital 
and dynamical unity, a .perfected personality. It wants nothing more to 
complete it ; less would (be a deficiency, more would be a redundancy. 

i. Thus we have found the will a competent and efiScient agent, hav- 
ing its own spring of action, its own end of action, and consequent lib- 
erty and power in itself. We have found it a free and independent, 
capable and self-mastering will, and, as such, capable of self-government, 
and a fit subject of moral law. 

j. We have found that the will has an ample field of action, has sub- 
jects, and an empire in the heart or affections, which spring from its 
own elements, and surround it. We have found that the will has an 
adequate i intellectual power in the consciousness, reason, and senses, 
which inhere in it, and are its light, legislation, and council, giving it 
law. Wei have found that this will has a judge and an ethical court 
springing l from , itself: We have set that ethical judge, the conscience, 



PERSONALITY. 643 

and that moral law, the highest dictate of the reason over the will, 
to be the rule and guide of its choices and decisions, when it comes to 
enter upon the field of its activity and ascend the throne of its power. 

k. We have seen that the conscience is not an element of the will, 
that it does not enter into the will, or in any way constitute the nature of 
the will, but that the will is complete in its freedom and power without 
it, and before it, and that the conscience is a separate, distinct, and 
generically different faculty, which, by its nature and office, becomes the 
judge of the will's action, after it is a complete will, and enters upon 
its life-work as such. 

I. The will, now armed with freedom and intelligence, and provided 
with a moral law for its guidance, is prepared to enter the realm and 
ascend the throne of its own legitimate empire, and rule as a free, right- 
ful, and competent monarch. 

m. Now, this person is enclosed in a material body adapted to its use 
in this sensuous state of existence ; the senses and organs of the body 
being the instruments through which, and by which, the mind acts and 
performs all its functions. This is perfected humanity, full-orbed man- 
hood and personality ; and here we come to the completion of our work, 
having examined the whole<mind, in all its faculties and capabilities, and 
found it a complete personality. 

n. And now, in looking back upon it, the inquiry is pertinent, whether 
this system of the mind, forming and completing, as it does, a perfected 
personality, will stand the test of experiment. In the introduction we 
have made the criterion of a true system of mental . science to consist 
in the following things : — 

First, a system of mental science must give and account for all the 
known facts and faculties of the mind. 

Second, it must so arrange those facts in a system as to have each 
fact in its right place, and each faculty in its right, relation to the whole,' 
and performing its right and natural functions. 

Third, the facts, when thus brought together, must constitute a com- 
plete unity, a perfect whole, with no deficiencies and no redundancies, 
forming one perfect and harmonious system. 

Fourth, the completed, and unified, and harmonious whole, when 
thus formed, with every fact, faculty, and susceptibility of the mind and 
body in its place, must be not only complete, but alive, and able to per- 
form all the functions of a perfect mind, so that, like the new-created 
Adam, who, when God breathed into him the breath of life, became a 
living soul, it shall also be a living soul, a live man. The mind thus 
formed will not be a mere automaton, a lifeless statue, a grinning skeleton, 
but a living being, actually able to perform all the functions of a free, 
affectiooal, rational, and ethical soul. 



644 AUTOLOGY. 

Fifth, a system of mental philosophy, when thus complete, must afford 
the means of explaining the vexed questions and other difficulties which 
arise out of mental operations, particularly in respect to choices of the 
will, cognitions of the intellect, states of the affections, and decisions of 
the conscience. A system of mental philosophy that can do this will 
certainly afford strong evidence that it is true and valid, and may be 
received as a reliable science of the mind. 

o. With regard to the first test; viz., are all the facts and faculties 
given ? We reply, that consciousness gives us the two primordial ele- 
ments of essential intelligence and essential activity, and from the com- 
bination and development of them it gives the will as the central faculty. 
Then, as inhering in this centre or substance of the rnind, it gives, as facul- 
ties, the affections, the intellect, and the conscience. These, with all their 
subordinate parts, and with all the functions which they perform, compose 
the facts and faculties of the mind. We have no proof but conscious- 
ness that this test has been met, and to this we appeal, and this only. 

p. Are all the facts and faculties in their right place ? That they are, 
no other or better proof can be given than that of observation and experi- 
ment. The will, as identical with the self, composed of the essential 
elements of self-activity and self-intelligence, combining and developing 
into self, self-law, and liberty, is certainly a self-evident completeness, 
that to be known needs but to be named. And this will, as centre and 
substance of the mind, with all the other faculties inhering in it, in the 
unity of one self-consciousness, certainly forms one complete and sym- 
metrical whole. 

q. That a complete mind may be formed, the will, the intellect, affec- 
tions, and conscience are all necessary, and need to be in a certain rela- 
tion of natural order and harmony to each other. That the will should 
be the centre and root of the mind, the vital spring of the whole man, is 
self-consistent ; that it should have an intellect to know with, a heart 
and affections to feel with, and a conscience to be governed by, is all 
certainly very rational and consistent; and these all seem to stand in 
a very natural relation to each other. 

r. They do form a unity, a complex yet complete whole. To this con- 
sciousness attests, and so also does their logical construction into one 
"whole bear the marks of unity, symmetry, and harmony:, the reason is 
satisfied. That this system of Autology here given is a living unity of 
faculties in one substance, that it grows and develops from one central life 
into a living personality, and is not a mere discussion of mental operations, 
or of a congeries of dissevered and •unhomogeneous faculties, need not 
be here argued ; for this it is the work of the whoiebook to show, and 
is already done and performed. 

s. The great defect in most systems of mental philosophy is the utter 



PERSONALITY. 645 

disregard of the unity and life of the mind. We have either a system 
like that of Brown, that disregards all distinctions between the faculties 
of the mind, and speaks of every act, whether volitional, aflectional, 
intellectual, or ethical, as a state of the whole mind, confounding all in one 
■mass, moving in one way or another ; or we have systems like those of 
Locke, Reid, Kant, and others, which anatomize and cut up the mind into 
parts and sections, giving us a mere catalogue of its faculties, and an 
inventory of its functions, but no unity and organic life. 

t. Of the place of any faculty in the system of the mind, and of its 
relation to, and co-operation with, the other faculties of the mind as a 
whole, no knowledge is furnished ; so that from a study of their works 
we are at a loss to know whether the parts given form one whole, or 
whether they are only portions of a humanity not yet complete, or frag- 
ments of some exploded mind ; or whether, indeed, they bo not sepa- 
rate and independent agencies, acting each on its own motion, and, so 
far from being parts of one indivisible whole, do not operate even in 
the same neighborhood, except by a mere unintended coincidence. In- 
deed, these authors seem to have had no conception of the mind as one 
living whole. 

u. Now, a true sj'stem of the mind will, while it shows each part 
distinct, give also the organic and living whole, indissoluble, with each 
part mutually dependent, and having one common essence, centre, and 
life-spring. And this the system here presented actually does ; viz., it 
exhibits the mind as a living whole, yet distinct in all its parts. 

p. When done, is it alive ? Is it self-conscious ? Will the system 
work ? Can a mind thus constituted perform the functions of a mind ? 
Can it choose, comprehend, perceive, cognize, feel an interest in external 
objects? Can it discern moral differences ? Does it actually feel con- 
scious of existence, of susceptibilities to pleasure and pain? Does it 
choose, refuse, know, and discern moral differences? We affirm that it 
does all these things, and that the mind constituted according to this 
system is a live mind ; that it can and does perform harmoniously and 
effectively all the functions of knowing, feeling, choosing, and moraliz- 
ing, and is a complete live man. 

iv. By its intellectual capability it can comprehend first principles, 
and cognize external objects and facts. By its affections it can take an 
interest in all objects of knowledge thus brought before it. By its will 
it can choose or refuse any object or proposed act that may be brought 
before it. By its conscience it can discern the moral quality of any act 
of choice that may be brought under its cognition, enjoin its observance, 
approve if it is observed, and condemn if it is not observed ; and thus it 
performs all the functions of a mind, of a rational soul, a moral nature, a 
human being inhabiting a material body. 



646 AUTOLOGY. 

x. Lastly, this system, it is believed, will meet and explain, and dur- 
ing the progress of its development and construction has met and 
explained, all legitimate, and important, and candid questions connected 
with the science of the mind. To this test it is expected to be 
held answerable, and by it to stand or fall. In view of all these 
tests/ the foregoing is believed to be a complete, unified, adequate, and 
true system of mental science, completing itself in a " living soul,'' a 
human personality. Personality is perfected manhood, consisting of 
the mind with all its faculties, and the body with all its organs, in one 
identified unity and living whole, and such it is found to be in a com- 
plete Autology. 



CHAPTER II. 

PERSONALITY THE FIRST FACT OF LIBERTY AND THE 
FIRST OBJECT OF KNOWLEDGE. 

a. Liberty is of two kinds, absolute and alternative ; knowledge is 
of two kinds, absolute and relative ; though, rightly speaking, there is 
no liberty but absolute liberty, and no knowing but absolute knowing ; 
for all the liberty there is in alternative action is derived directly from, 
and is strictly dependent upon absolute liberty ; and all the knowing* 
there is in relative intelligence is derived directly from absolute know- 
ing, and is strictly dependent upon it. 

b. There can be no liberty in mere alternative action, until there is 
first absolute liberty in the actor himself. There can be no intelligence 
gained by the mere act of relative knowing, until there is first an abso- 
lute knowledge in the actual possession of the knower. (See Parts I. 
and III.) 

c. The tests, therefore, of liberty and of knowledge are of necessity 
twofold, correspondent to these two supposed varieties of liberty and 
knowledge. 

d. The test of absolute liberty is essential self-law. This selfdaw 
is produced, as we have seen in Part I., by the combination of essential 
activity and essential intelligence, producing essential individuality, 
essential law, and essential liberty ; while the test of alternative action, 
or liberty, consists in always having more than one motive or opportu- 
nity of action. 

e. The test of absolute knowing consists in the self-seeingness and 



PERSONALITY. 64'< 

the self-knowingness of the consciousness, by which the knower, the 
knowing, and the known are identified in the same person ; while the 
test of relative knowing is that of the mutual and respective impene- 
trability of the knower and the known. But the whole validity and 
reliableness of relative knowing depends on the absolute knowing that 
has gone before it ; for we must first know something absolutely before we 
can know anything relatively, just as there must first be absolutely free 
action before there can be any freedom thrown into alternative action. 

f. That personality is the true test of all freedom, and of all knowl- 
edge, will appear when it is remembered that it is the first cause of its 
own liberty and of its own knowing. 

g. The first relation of the mind, or personality, to being, acting, and 
knowing, is, therefore, that of identity; viz., the identity of the acting 
and the cause of action in one author, and the identity of the knowing 
and the known in one knower ; and this it is which makes it the true 
test of all liberty and of all intelligence. 

h. The relation of the personality of man to all being and all knowing 
will appear when we recall what we have so often shown in this work, 
viz., that the consciousness is essentially self-seeing, and that the mind 
must, therefore, of necessity first know itself. Having first known 
itself, it then makes this knowledge the key of all things, as we have 
shown in the formation of the categories, Part III. It forms all its 
ideas from the facts of consciousness, and knows both the facts and the 
ideas formed from them absolutely, because the knower is in immediate 
contact with the things known and identical with them. Hence this 
absolute knowing is the true test of all knowing, for the relation of the 
mind to the knowing of the mind is that of identity. 

i. The relation of the mind to other objects of knowledge is that of 
a universal homogeneousness, which makes it the key of all knowledge. 
Hence, although these points have been discussed before, yet it will be 
here necessary, in bringing out the intent of this chapter, and in show- 
ing the true test of liberty and of knowing, to recur to the original 
questions of the book, viz., How can the mind begin to act? how can 
the mind begin to know ? or what is liberty, and what is consciousness ? 
Or, to state the questions in other words, Can the mind originate its own 
acting and its own knowing ? or is its acting only the result of being 
acted upon, and its knowing only the consciousness of the acting of its 
own organic structure ? 

j. These questions have, in fact, their real significance ih this ; viz., 
Can the mind know anything ? can it do anything ? For if the mind 
simply responds to outward impressions when made upon it, it neither 
knows nor acts in any proper sense of these terms, but only shows a 
sort of intellectual and affectional elasticity, which is neither know- 



648 • AUTOLOGY. 

ing nor acting 1 . The questions, How can the mind begin to act ? how 
can it begin to know ? involve directly the nature and source of liberty, 
and the nature and origin of ideas, and the whole philosophy of 
knowing. The former of these has already been discussed in the first 
two parts of this work, viz., the Will and the Affections. The latter, the 
science of knowing, or the nature and origin of ideas, and the use of 
ideas in cognizing, have been fully discussed in the third and fourth 
parts of this work, viz., the Intellect and the Conscience. 

k. Acting and knowing are the two great functions of the mind; 
between them are divided the faculties of the mind, yet all combining 
in one vital and dynamical unity. To understand the mind, then, is to 
understand its acting and its knowing; and the investigation of these 
two things involves necessarily these questions, also ; viz., What is the 
first object of knowledge; and what is the true test of knowing ? 

I. Now that the questions, Can the mind know anything- ? can it do 
anything ? are the real ones with which every person who would know 
the mind has to contend, and not the questions, What can the mind 
know ? and what can it do ? and that some other faculty than the rea- 
son and the senses, the will, the affections, and the conscience, must be 
called in to answer these questions, is manifest from the following 
considerations: First, from the fact that neither. the reason alone, nor 
the senses alone, nor both together, can begin to know, and that neither 
the will alone, nor the affections alone, nor the conscience alone, nor all 
of them together, can begin to act; and also, secondly, from the fact 
that all those systems of philosophy which assume either avowedly or 
virtually that these faculties can begin to know and to act respective!}', 
and begin their investigations with the inquiries, What can the mind 
know ? and what can it do ? run inevitably, as respects the mind's know- 
ing, into idealism or materialism, or their correlative scepticism or mys- 
ticism, and as respects the mind's acting, into fatalism. 

m. For, if I may assume that the mind's knowing begins in ideas or 
in sensuous perceptions, who shall forbid me to conclude that they 
may also end in mere ideas or sensuous perceptions ? How can it be 
shown that my ideas are anything but necessary subjective forms, or 
that my perceptions are anything but 'necessary material sensations ? or 
if my' activity may begin in passivity, why may it not be wholly such ? 
or if it begins in. a choice, what keeps it from an eternal and necessary 
choosing to choose ? 

n. How can it be shown that there is not, indeed, a perfect fatalism in 
both knowing and acting ? For there is a fatalism or necessitarianism, 
in reference to knowing as well as to acting, found in the theories of 
men. If I am compelled to know just what, and only what, my intel- 
lectual mechanism compels me to know (as indeed I am in idealism and 






PERSONALITY. 649 

materialism) then my knowing is under a fatalism as absolute as my act- 
ing would be, if I am compelled to act, always and only, according to 
my mechanism (as indeed I am if my acting begins in the will, the affec- 
tions*, or the conscience) ; and really I am as incapable of knowing any- 
thing in the one case as of doing anything in the other. 

o. For if the mind cannot see itself by an act of consciousness, it 
can never see itself at all. If the mind cannot know itself until it first 
has a sensuous perception of itself, — that is, until by an act of perception 
by the external or internal sense it first perceives itself, and then inter- 
prets or comprehends that perception by an idea or conception of itself 
before possessed, — it can never know itself at all, for a sense either ex- 
ternal or internal never perceives itself; nor can there be, as we have 
shown in Part I. and Part II., any perception of the senses before there 
is a conception or idea of the reason ; nor can an idea or a conception 
exist before there is a fact of consciousness in the mind from which to 
form it. 

p. So also, on the other hand, the mind can never do anything unless 
it has its own original spring of action within itself, by which, by its own 
developing force, combining, as we have so often shown, with the con- 
sciousness, it creates its own individuality, its own self-law, and its own 
liberty ; liberty absolute, liberty self-generated, and independent of all 
and any external circumstances. There must be an independent and 
absolute liberty of action before there can be any mere appetitive or 
alternative action, which is either free or which incurs any responsibility. 

q. Thus clearly can the mind neither do nor know without essential 
activity and essential intelligence, absolute knowing and absolute acting. 
I need an independent capability in order to know anything, as much 
as I do to do anything. The mind could neither know itself nor any- 
thing else without a source of knowledge deeper than the senses and 
the reason ; nor could it do anything without a source of action deeper 
than the affections, the will, or the conscience ; and hence we need not 
wonder that the great authors of theories that ignore these great facts, 
find it necessary to labor so strenuously to prove the reality of the 
mind's existence, and the reality of the existence of the object of its 
knowledge, and of its liberty, its immortality, and of its Creator and God. 

r. For after, by their theories, they have taken away the oidy object 
which it is possible for the mind to know in the first instance, and the 
only test and key of knowledge, and the only faculties and powers by 
which the mind can begin to know or begin to act, no wonder that 
they find themselves at fault, and are driven to far-fetched arguments 
and roundabout methods in vain attempts to prove that the mind has 
an existence, or can know or can do anything. It is not surprising that 
to such authors it should be a wonder how the mind can be an object of 
82 



650 • AUTOLOGY. 

thought to itself, and a mystery how the mind could make anything 
else its object ; that is, how the mind could know itself, and how 
it could know anything else, or how the subject could know itself, and 
then how it could get from the subjective to the objective. Nor is it 
any wonder that to these authors it should be more strange still, than 
all, how the mind could know God and immortality. Indeed, on the 
'theory that our knowing begins in the reason or senses, these things 
could never be known ; nor do any of the authors of these theories pre- 
tend to be able to obtain a knowledge of the soul, of God, and of 
immortality, from them, but confess that those things must derive their 
proof from other sources, a " most lame and impotent conclusion " for 
any system of mental science to come to. 

s. Nor is it any more surprising that liberty, the liberty of the will, 
should be a mystery inexplicable to such authors as attribute the be- 
ginning of the mind's action to the will, the affections, or the conscience ; 
for no liberty, as we have before seen, is possible from such activity. 
They each imply, and are dependent upon, a preceding action. They are 
neither of them original and independent, but all are secondary and 
dependent. They have, therefore, no liberty in themselves, and cannot 
in any combination give any. 

t. Nor is it to be wondered at that the advocates of those theories, 
commonly known as " the strongest motive/' and "the self-determining 
power of the will," should be perpetually at loggerheads, wrangling 
without end, and reaching no satisfactory result. Because, in the first 
place, no liberty is possible on either of these theories; neither that 
which begins the action of the mind in the will, nor in that which begins 
it in the affections, nor that which begins it in the conscience ; for each 
of these are dependent on an action going before them, and can never 
originate any action in themselves ; and because, in the second place, 
the theories are all the same. Each man, therefore, who holds any one 
of these theories of the mind's action, and opposes another, contends, in 
the first instance, for an impossibility, and, in the second place, against 
himself. He strives perpetually to build up and pull down the same 
absurdity. (See Part I., Chaps. V. and VI., also Part V., on Edwards.) 

u. Nor is the mistake with regard to the mind's beginning to act and 
to know any more common or any more fatal than that as to the ques- 
tions, What is the first great object of knowledge? and, What is the 
test and key of all knowledge ? No system of philosophy which 
attempts to begin its knowing with any other object of knowledge than 
the knowing mind itself can ever know anything absolutely, and conse- 
quently can never know anything certainly — i. e., have any test of 
knowing, — for the only test of certainty of knowledge is that the 
knower and the known be ideutical. 



PERSONALITY. 651 

v. Furthermore, man is to himself the only key by which he can- 
know either God or nature. 

w. If man is not known first, and as the first object of knowledge, 
then he can never be known ; and if he cannot first be known, so as to 
become the key of knowing- to all other thinga, then nothing- can be 
known — neither man, nor God, nor nature : and this is the reason why 
the systems of philosophy from Plato to Kant are unable, confessedly, 
to give any certain knowledge of man, or God, or nature, but leave them 
all in doubt. 

x. They talk endlessly of being, and becoming, and phenomena ; of 
dialectics, and physics, and ethics ; of logic, and natural philosophy, 
and spirit ; but are totally, and by their own confession, unable to know 
positively whether there is such a thing at all as man, or God, or 
nature ; for they make each all, and all each, in turn, and are in doubt 
at last of everything. All this failure is caused by mistaking, first, the 
true nature of liberty involved in the question, How can the mind begin 
to act ? and secondly, the true nature of consciousness, as involved in the 
question, How can the mind begin to know ? and thirdly, as involved in 
these two primal questions, the three following things; viz., the first 
object, the true test, and the only key of all knowledge. 

y. The authors whom we propose in a following chapter to examine 
have failed, as it would seem, in all these particulars. They have 
sought an ontology and a science of knowing without first seeking a 
psychology, and then have sought a psychology by means of ontology, 
and a science of knowing and logic. In like manner have they sought, 
as a last thing, a knowledge of God, and man's relation to him, instead 
of finding, first, an autology which should contain in itself a psychology. 
This autology should give a science of the human faculties, a science of 
knowing, and at the same time an ontology and a logic, all in one liv- 
ing person. In this person the knower, the knowing, and the known, 
would all centre, as in one live man ; and then this first fact, this know- 
ing and this live man, should be taken as the test and the key to all 
knowiug and all acting. 

z. That knowing alone is the test of all other knowing, which we 
know absolutely. 

aa. The consciousness, as we have seen, knows itself and the self, 
directly and immediately, and, of course, absolutely. The reason also 
comprehends the facts of consciousness, and comprehends its own com- 
prehending absolutely, hence knowing and the objects thus known, and 
the tests of all other knowing, and all other objects of knowledge. 

bb. So that acting which is self-active, independent, and self-origi- 
nated, having its own law in itself, is free and absolute acting : this is 
liberty, and the test of liberty. 



652 . AUTOLOGY. 

cc. The first object of knowledge is therefore the self; arid the ulti- 
mate test of all knowing is the absolute knowing of the self-seeing 
consciousness ; and the test of all liberty is the self-activity of the mind, 
developing itself into self-law. Personality, therefore, is this first fact 
of liberty and the first object of knowledge. 



CHAPTER III. 

PERSONALITY, AS THE KEY TO ALL KNOWLEDGE. 

A. a. The key to knowledge must always be that known thing by which 
we unlock, open, translate, explain, and know the unknown. As a foot 
measure, or a yardstick, or surveyor's chain is the instrument by which 
we ascertain the unknown lengths of other objects, so always must 
something already known give us the measure and knowledge of the 
unknown. Now, the human being, man," in his complete personality, is 
that known thing. He is that thing first known by which all other 
things can alone be measured, ascertained, and known ; and hence he is 
the true key of all knowledge. 

b. It is obvious that the object which can serve as the true and effec- 
tual key to the knowledge of all things must be a something which is 
homogeneous with all things, partake of the nature and be in connection 
with all things. 

c. Where, then, shall we find such an object, such a measure, partak- 
ing of the nature of all things, material and spiritual, intellectual and 
physical, free and necessary ; affectional and imperative ; ethical and 
appetitive, animate and inanimate, mortal and immortal ? Surely there is 
but one such object in the universe : and that one object is man himself, — 
man in his complete manhood as body and soul, physical and sen'suous, 
voluntary, affectional, rational, and ethical — man with a physical body 
governed by necessary laws, yet possessing a free rational spirit, which 
governs itself in freedom and rationality — man whose body dies, but 
whose soul is essentially immortal, and lives forever. 

d. The relation of the personality to being and knowing, as here con- 
templated, is that of a universal homogeneousness with all objects in 
the universe, both natural and spiritual, it is therefore the true and 
only key to all knowledge of man, and God, and nature. 

e. The relation of the personality to free action or liberty will appear 
when we recall the fact that essential activity is the first element of the 



PERSONALITY. 653 

mind, is its life principle ; and that it, by combining 1 with the second — 
essential intelligence, produces essential individuality, which is the first 
fact of both being and of knowing ; and by combining this last with 
the first two, it produces essential self-law; and that by recombining this 
self-law with the three preceding elements, it produces essential liberty ; 
and that by recombining this liberty with the preceding elements, it pro- 
duces essential will, which is the essence and centre of the mind. 

/. Tims are liberty and knowing not adjuncts to the mind, nor powers 
bestowed upon it from without, but part and parcel of the essence itself 
of the mind ; and hence is the mind or personality the cause to itself of 
its own liberty and its knowing. Thus is man's personality the first 
fact of being and of knowing, and of liberty, and the true test and the 
true key to all knowledge and liberty in man and in all creatures in the 
universe. 

g. The science of the mind stands, of necessity, at the head of all the 
sciences. The human mind within is the little world, or microcosm, of 
the great world, or macrocosm, which is without, and they arc in strict 
correlation to each other. 

h. All good governments of any form are analogous in their necessary 
departments to its faculties: (1.) King, president, or executive, corre- 
sponding to the will; (2.) The legislators, corresponding to the intel- 
lect ; (3.) The people, corresponding to the affections; (4.) The 
judiciary, to the conscience ; and the government and regulation of 
these departments of the state respectively, and the performance by 
them of their duties and functions, are analogous to the education and 
government of the corresponding faculties of the mind. 

i. (1.) Religion is the culture of the heart. (2.) Medicine has to do 
with the body and the mind in individuals, families, and societies. 
*(3.) Political economy provides for human wants and liabilities, both 
of body and mind. (4.) Law and government, justice and equity, have 
to do with the will and the conscience. (5.) Art and letters are the 
flowing out of all the faculties of ,the mind in their highest excellence, 
and beauty, and power. (6.) And human history is the record of the 
will, intellect, affections, and conscience of men. (7.) So that if we 
would know anything well, or in its originating causes or formative 
principles, we must know the mind. 

j. As it is necessary that a good mind be well balanced and adjusted, 
so the corresponding departments in a government must be well defined, 
distinguished, and adjusted; .and in proportion as each respectively per- 
forms its part, and as neither is made to encroach upon the other, so will 
that government be well balanced, and so will it perform its functions well 
as a whole, and secure the best and wisest ends by its administration. 

k. So, also, are the subsidiary and attendant ends of a government 



654 AUTOLOGY. 

and interests of a people best ascertained and subserved by a knowledge 
of the mind, from which all else is, and through which all else is, and to 
which all else must return. 

I. But if a knowledge of the mind is necessary in order to know 
human affairs, much more is it in order to know that which is above and 
beyond them ; viz., God, and immortality, and nature. For the mind 
of man is the only supernatural thing which is to be found here in the 
midst of nature where we dwell, the only spirit here in the midst of 
matter in which our lo£ is cast. Therefore man, the mind of man, is to 
us the only known thing or quantity with which to prove the unknown 
things or quantities — God and immortality. 

m. The mind is spiritual and supernatural, and homogeneous with 
God and immortality ; the spiritualness of man is our bridge over the 
gulf of mortality, our ladder up to the spirit world, the link that binds 
us to God. Hence the importance of the study and of a right knowledge 
of the mind ; for if there is no mortal mind, then there is no immortal 
mind ; if there is no finite personality, then there is no infinite person- 
ality ; if there is no man, then there is no God ; for man in nature is our 
only proof of a God out of nature ; man, whom we can see, is the only 
proof of a God, whom we cannot see. And the converse is also true : if 
there is no God, then there is no man ; for nothing but an infinite personal 
God could create a free, affectional, rational, ethical, and personal soul. 

n. If we cannot rise from the human mind to a knowledge of God, 
then there is not only no salient point on earth from which we may rise 
to God at all ; but then also we come short of any author for the finite 
mind, and any true knowledge of its nature. The knowledge of the 
one carries with it the proof of the other,' and the denial of the one 
carries with it the denial of the other ; they must stand or fall together. 

o. Nor is the mind, as a mere intellect and susceptibility, sufficient to ' 
raise us above nature. Mind must be both free and rational, to be proof 
of either a personality in itself or an}' proof of the existence of a per- 
sonal God. The conscience can have no being until after reason and 
free will exist. 

p. The question, then, whether man is a will, whether he is distinct 
from nature, 'whether he is rational, is the question of questions. (1.) Is 
man a personality, or only a thing ? Is he a free will, or only an assem- 
blage of sensibilities ? Does he act from self-activity and self-law, or 
from impulse ? And has he liberty, or only spontaneity and alternative 
action? (2.) Does he know or comprehend anything, or is all his 
knowledge a mere mode of his being affected ? Upon these questions 
turns the whole subject of human knowledge and of human actions. 

q. The two great poles of all human inquiry are these : Is man a free 
will ? is he a rational soul ? If so, he has an ethical nature and a con- 



PERSONALITY. 655 

science, and is a personality, and has a being distinct from nature. If not, 
he is only a mere thing, and is only a part and modification of nature. 

r. If man is a free personality, above nature, then have we proof that 
there is an author of man above nature, who is also a free personality. 
If not, then there is neither a soul nor a God, and Nature is herself a 
contradiction, and all existence is an inexplicable enigma. A knowl- 
edge of the mind is, therefore, a first requisite. 

s. Moreover, a knowledge of the mind is essential not only to find 
for itself an author and a God, but in order to find an author and. an 
end of nature; for nature, like man, is dependent, and must have a cause 
and an end. From the mind we ascend to God, and then come back to 
nature ; and this is the true route of all knowledge ; first, the mind ; 
second, God ; third, nature. 

t. Thus is the science of the mind the centre of all sciences, and the 
true starting-point of all knowledge, whether of human affairs, God, or 
nature ; for man is nature as well as spirit, involuntary as well as vol- 
untary ; he is made up of natural forces as well as of supernatural ; he 
is a necessary being as well as a free being ; consequently he is homo- 
geneous with nature on the one side and with God on the other. He 
is phenomenal and noumenal ; has substance and quality in common 
with nature, and has soul and spirit, reason and freedom, in common 
with God. Thus man is the one central and explaining fact of universal 
being, God, and nature. 

u. Man's being gives us phenomena, substance, and cause ; it also 
gives us free will, reason, conscience, and heart ; and, consequently, if 
we know man we know all the elements of being, and have the facts 
and the ideas' that enable us to understand God, and nature also. 

v. Man, then, in all his nature and faculties, is to be first known ; then 
have we the power to know everything else in the realm of the natural 
and the divine. 

B. a. The great questions raised by the Scotch and German schools 
are, How can the human faculties cognize substances and causes in na- 
ture ? how can they cognize the soul and God ? The sole difficulty in 
regard to these questions arises out of denying that the mind begins its 
own action in the primary essential activity, and that it begins its know- 
ing in the primary essential intelligence. But if these be once granted, 
all difficulty vanishes. 

b. Let it be once the case that the consciousness is essentially self- 
seeing, sees itself as essence and substance, and immediately essence, 
substance, and causes, both free and necessary, become known as a matter 
of consciousness, and man is prepared to know nature in all her laws. 
Substance and cause are no more unknowable noumena, but facts of 
consciousness. 



656 AUTOLOGY. 

c. Just so, let it once be known — that man's actions begin in his own 
essential activity, that he thus can begin to act, can thus originate his 
own activity,. and is thus a free, rational soul, and capable of upholding 
an ethical nature, which asserts itself as actually existing, — and we 
are already in the world of spirits, we are already out of the world of 
nature, we are living souls, and in the regions of personality and im- 
mortality. In this manner do we know the soul to be real, the spirit to 
be spirit, and that we are in the spirit world already, and thus have we 
in our position and our possession all the facts, and all the capability 
of knowing immortality and God. Indeed, we are already on the 
ground of immortality, and in the presence of the eternal God. 

d. Thus will it be seen that man is the great explaining fact of the 
universe. By knowing man we are prepared to l^now God and nature. 
Man belongs to the three worlds of phenomena, noumena, and spirit. 
He has in himself a sensuous, and physical, and phenomenal being. 
He has also in himself substance, or essence, and causes, which are 
noumenal being. He has in himself spirit, or soul. He therefore ranges 
in the constitution of his own wonderful nature through the whole of 
these three g'reat orders of being, and is homogeneous with them all. 

e. He stands like a" mountain in the sea, whose base is in the earth 
below, whose body is in the water, and whose snowy top is in the air 
above, piercing the very height of heaven. So man begins in sensuous, 
and physical, and phenomenal nature. He rises to the intangible and 
unphenomenal ; i. e., unsensuous region of substances, and essences, and 
causes ; and then he ascends to the pure empyrean of spirit life ; and 
thus man is the great fact. He it is that makes noumena, facts, and 
spirit a fact, and immortality a fact, before they can be ideas or con- 
ceptions. 

f. These things are known to us as facts of our own being and con- 
sciousness before they are or can be subjects of speculative reason. 
We are ourselves phenomena, and noumena, and spirit. Hence to 
know ourselves is to know phenomena, noumena, and spirit, — or to 
know sensuous objects or qualities, and to know substances, causes, 
and essences, and to know the soul, spirit, and immortality. Man, then, 
is our great fact. 

g. Man, as a soul homogeneous with God and nature, known first, as 
a fact, gives us the knowledge of God and nature, first as facts, and 
then as the subjects of speculative reason and theoretical knowledge. 

h. The whole difficulty of the schools arises from denying the pri- 
mordial principles and elements of the mind ; viz.. essential activity and 
essential intelligence. Grant the truth that man's consciousness is 
essentially self-seeing, and we have every great problem in the universe 
in our hands — the soul, God, and nature. The gulf between phenom-. 



PERSONALITY. 651 

ena and noumena (or between quality and substance, and effect and 
cause), and the gulf between man and God, and nature and God, are 
not bridged over, but filled up ; for man, as phenomena, noumena, and 
spirit, fills them up, and all are known realities in him. 

i. That man can originate his own acting and his own knowing, and 
thus is the central and explaining fact of the whole universe, man, God, 
and nature, and that in knowing him we have the key that unlocks the 
knowledge of the universe, is the central thought of the system of 
mental science contained in this book. 

j. Thus is mental science a true autology, and an actual realization 
of the ancient aphorism, " Know thyself." 

h. We propose in the sequel to examine the views and systems of 
some leading authors as to the questions, How can the mind begin to 
act, how can it begin to know, and what is the first object and the true 
test and key of all knowledge ? We propose to examine, also, the cor- 
relative questions, What is the na'ture and source of the freedom of the 
will, and the nature and origin of the ideas of the reason, and what are 
the possibilities of knowledge ? accompanying these with passing re- 
marks. The authors hereinafter mentioned are examined for the most 
part in reference to that one of the above points which they them- 
selves chiefly treat. 






CHAPTER IV. 

PERSONALITY RENDERS AN ONTOLOGY, OR, WIIAT IS THE 
SAME THING, A PHILOSOPHY OF MAN, GOD, AND NA- 
TURE, NOT ONLY POSSIBLE, BUT INEVITABLE. 

SECT. I. IS A PHILOSOPHY POSSIBLE ? 

a. This is an old question, and one that has been both affirmed and 
denied with equal confidence, and that by men of the greatest learning 
and ability. All systems as yet given to the world have been more or 
less a failure ; and yet the human mind seems never to weary of the sub- 
ject, but rallies ever from defeat, and begins anew the effort, with fresh 
courage and hope, insomuch that it has become almost a divine proverb, 
that " never to give up the hope of philosophy is the last infirmity of 
noble minds." Nor is this a false or a vain ambition. 

b. The interest of the human soul to know the truth is deep, inborn, 
instinctive, and imperishable. There are certain questions which force 
themselves upon the mind, and will not be put down ; na} r , the mind 
itself is the first of these questions ; and they must, and they will, rise 

83 



658 AUTOLOGY. 

up into interrogations so long as the mind exists. They involve its 
being and its destiny, and it cannot avoid them. 

c. Now, about these questions the mind has a right to inquire, and it is 
its duty to know them ; and what it is its right and duty to know, that 
it asserts the power to know, and that it will not suffer itself to be with- 
held from knowing. 

d. Whosoever denies that the mind has power to know such ques- 
tions, questions in which it feels to be involved its own being and 
destiny, treats it with the greatest indignity and the most cruel mock- 
cry : the soul revolts at it. The soul feels it a necessity growing out 
of its own existence to know itself, its God, and nature. 

e. These questions force themselves upon man, and he cannot escape 
them. To know itself and its God is the highest power, as it is- the 
first right and the first duty of the soul. Man is bound to know him- 
self as volitional, affectional, rational, and ethical, having the power to 
originate his own action and his own knowing, and he is bound to know 
God as the author of the soul made in God's image. 

/. Two classes of men have done much to take away man's right, and 
to deny man's power to know himself and. his God. The one class is 
composed of deistical writers, materialists, speculative theorists, and 
atheistical philosophers ; and the other class is composed of religious 
fatalists and feeble theologians. . It is in assertion of these rights, and 
powers of the mind, and against these falsifiers of the truth and these 
defamers of humanity, that the system of this book protests. 

g. The questions which Edwards failed to answer, and which Kant 
pronounced unanswerable by the human mind, and which the late Sir 
William Hamilton yielded up with pious resignation, will not allow 
themselves to be so buried ; nor will the minds that come after be thus 
mocked with inconclusive arguments,insinuations of impotency, or impu- 
tations of mendacity. These questions must be answered. The minds 
of men will vindicate themselves. Human honor, manhood, and well- 
being demand it. The truth will not be put down. The human spirit 
will not be dogmatized to silence, nor preached into a degrading acqui- 
escence. 

h. The great questions of human liberty which Edwards suffocated in 
the " slough of despond," and of human capability which Kant be- 
headed outright, and whoso carcasses have been gathered up and sub- 
jected to a post-mortem examination and a coroner's inquest, and 
pronounced dead, and beyond any possibility of a resurrection by Sir 
William Hamilton, and which have been interred by him with a devout 
burial, and mutterings of " mental impotency," accompanied with prot- 
estations against mendacity, and with pious exhortations to " humility 
and faith," will not be thus strangled and slain, nor buried in such an 



PERSONALITY. 659 

ignominious and degrading grave ; but will ever rise from the dead, and 
by all the wounds and blood that murdered them will demand hearing, 
appreciation, and solution from the human mind. 

i. Nor will they ever rest until they have it ; nor will the human mind 
allow itself to be defrauded out of a knowledge of these questions by the 
insulting charge of mental falseness by Kant on the one hand, nor by 
the degrading intimation of ^impotency" by Sir William Hamilton on 
the other. Let Kant rest in the former if he can, and Sir William Ham- 
ilton enfold himself in the latter if he will ; the human mind will never 
allow that they speak for any but themselves. And as for Edwards and 
his followers, let them flounder in their mire, and think confusion pro- 
foundness, and self-contradiction proof, and mistiness light ; the human 
mind will never submit. 

,;'. The spirit of these great questions, and the minds of men, will never 
rest, until they are fully solved and clearly explained to the satisfaction 
of all right-minded men ; hence this conflict is " irrepressible ; " the 
question must be met and solved. 

k. To the question, therefore, " Is a philosophy possible ? " the reply 
is, Yes, possible, and more than possible ; it is necessary ; nay, more than 
necessary, it is inevitable. It is a want of the soul itself; it is a duty 
of the .soul to itself, to God, and to man. 

I. As to the specific question, however, " Is a philosophy possible ? " 
it may be replied, that if by philosophy it bo meant a system of truth 
built by the exercise of the faculty of reason alone, then must it be 
conceded that no philosophy is possible ; for a purely rational system, 
however logical, can give no facts nor realities, but only logical forms. 

m. And if by philosophy be meant a system of truth built on mere 
sensuous phenomena, facts of the senses, then no philosophy is possible, 
for philosophy demands grounds and causes, reasons and ultimate 
ends. No mere inventory of observed phenomena, classified according 
to characteristics of any kind, can satisfy the human mind ; indeed, facts 
cannot, as we have shown, be at all known, nor a classification or any in? 
ventory be made in thisway ; and even if so made, would be no philosophy. 

n. But if by philosophy be meant a system of truth that is built up 
of materials formed and framed together by the joint action of all the 
faculties of the mind, consciousness, reason, and the sense, not leaving 
out the will, the affections, and the conscience, then it may be replied 
in the affirmative, that such a philosophy is possible. 

o. In other words, a philosophy built up of mere conceptions and 
ideas is only ideal and intellectual, the work of reason alone ; and a col- 
lection of mere phenomena classified is no philosophy, but simply an in- 
ventory. But a philosophy built of facts of the consciousness and the 
sense, as they are changed into conceptions, and transfigured into ideas 



660 AUTOLOGY. 

by the reason, all mutually verified, the ideas by the facts,, and the facts 
by ibe ideas, can be, and must be. 

p. Such a philosophy will be both empirical and rational combined, 
and neither alone ; such a philosophy will be identical with science ; it 
will be a verified philosophy built on facts' obtained by consciousness 
and the senses, and wrought by inductions into principles and a system. 

q. An a priori philosophy is impossible, as it will result in nothing 
but empty conceptions. But a philosophy built on ideas and principles 
derived from facts of consciousness first, and then of the senses, becomes 
a science, and is at once philosophy and science. In such a philosophy 
all the faculties of the mind are employed • — the consciousness, the reason, 
and the sense ; and they bring together all facts, both of nature and of 
the mind, of necessity and of freedom, and keep each distinct, and 
build of them all a system, using each according to its kind. Nature, man, 
and God are kept eternally distinct, yet are wrought into one consis- 
tent whole, of science and philosophy. 

r. If, again, by philosophy is meant to confound personality with 
mere principles, rational beings with mere forces, and theories with 
facts, and to treat them all as of the same homogeneity, then no philos- 
ophy is possible. 

s. But if by philosophy is meant the treating of all things according 
to their natures respectively, then is philosophy possible. 

t. A sj'stem that accounts for the being and nature of man, the uni- 
verse, and God, all on one principle, or on several principles which 
work together as necessary forces, producing and sustaining all things, 
assuming that man, the universe, and God can be so accounted for, is 
false at the outset. 

u. It is of no moment by what name these forces may be called, 
whether matter and mind, or force and spirit; nor is it material though 
some of them be called free or rational forces, and others necessary forces ; 
the very method of treatment employed assumes that they are all neces- 
sary forces — the individuality, and freedom, and rationality, and spirit- 
uality of man and God are virtually, if not avowedly, ignored and denied, 
and all are treated as necessary forces : such a philosophy is impossible, 
and hence all who have attempted to make it have failed. 

v. They l|ave failed because they began by assuming a falsehood, or 
were unwittingl}* betrayed into, one; vjz., that of regarding the mind 
and matter as alike forces, and although differing in mode, yet as mere 
forces still, and capable of being accounted for as such. Some have 
enslaved the will, and some have discapacitated the intellect, and some 
have bound them both in the chains of a helpless impotency and a fatal 
necessity. 

w. Now, this is the reason why the attempted philosophies of 



PERSONALITY. 661 

Edwards, Kant, Spinoza, Fiohte, Schelling, and Hegel, and Cousin, 
Compte, and Sir William Hamilton, are a failure. They have in one way or 
another fallen into the abovenamed errors. Especially the following: — 

I. They have either assumed that the will is a mere natural and ne- 
cessary force by their definitions, and then attempted to show it free, 
while yet holding on to the definition which makes it necessary. 

II. Or they have defined the mind as capable of knowing only sen- 
suous and contingent things, and then attempted to show that such a 
mind is yet an absolute knower. 

III. Or they have defined God as a blind force, and then failed, as 
needs they must, in their attempts to show that such a blind force is a 
personal God. 

IV. Or they have assumed that the world had a beginning within 
itself, and then attempted, by a process involving the same assump-' 
tion, to prove that it had an origin out of itself. 

V. Or they have assumed that it had an origin out of itself, and then 
attempted to prove, by a process that involved the same assumption, 
that it had an origin in itself; and thus have they "darkened counsel with 
words," and only perplexed themselves and damaged the cause of truth. 

x. But the human mind will not be so balked ; it will not allow itself 
to be thus stultified ; but rises up against it with a sense of injury and 
of insult, asserting its own freedom and its own reason, and claiming its 
own right, and its own power, to know itself and its God. It will not 
allow itself to be put down by any of the weaknesses of philosophy or 
the sophisms of science. And this leads us to the next point ; viz., — 

HOW A PHILOSOPHY IS POSSIBLE. 

a. In answer, let us first recall that the failure of philosophers has 
arisen from several causes, to wit : a first cause of failure was, as we have 
largely seen, from mistaking the true origin of acting and knowing, there- 
by rendering the mind incapable of any independent acting or knowing. 

b. The second cause of failure has been the attempt to form a phi- 
losophy either of sensuous facts exclusively, or of rational ideas exclu- 
sively, and thus never using but part of the faculties of the mind in 
searching for truth. 

c. A third source of failure has been in confounding the mind with 
matter, force with spirit, and God with both, and endeavoring to 
account for them all on the same principle, or law of necessary being 
and action, thus making all mere nature, and all one atheism. 

d. A fourth error has arisen from beginning with the wrong facts 
to search for truth ; facts which, if known, belong only to one depart- 
ment of the universe, and cannot, therefore, serve to explain the whole. 



662 AUTOLOGY. 

e. A true philosophy will, in the first instance, employ the whole 
mind, in all its faculties, in the investigation of truth, viz., the conscious- 
ness, the reason, and the sense, not leaving out the affections and the 
conscience. 

f. Secondly, it will recognize and distinguish all facts, — man, God, 
and nature, — and treat each according to its nature. 

g. Thirdly, it will begin with man as the first great central fact, nat- 
ural and supernatural, human and divine, and first fully know it, and 
then, with it, search out all the other facts of God and nature. 

h. Fourthly, it will begin all acting in essential activity, and all 
knowing in essential intelligence, making man thus a doer and a knower, 
in his own right. 

T. Thus it will begin all knowledge in the facts of consciousness ; 
discover by them the essence and qualities of the mind, and then, with 
man's knowing his own essence, and his own qualities, and the ideas 
formed from them by the reason, as instruments of knowing, he will go 
out and find God first, and then he will find nature. With the former 
man is homogeneous, by his free, affectional, rational, and ethical nature; 
and with the latter, by his involuntary, material, animal, and necessary 
nature ; and thus can he know both, for man is both nature and the 
supernatural, phenomenon and noumenon, quality and substance, matter 
and spirit, mortal and immortal, human and divine ; and hence to know 
him is to have the means of knowing all these things. 

j. Thus is a philosophy not only possible, but practicable ; nay, a 
thing of necessity ; the mind will have it. It both spontaneously de- 
mands and involuntarily makes it. And thus are philosophy and science 
not two, but one, identical and inevitable. 



CHAPTER IV. 

PERSONALITY RENDERS AN ONTOLOGY, OR, WHAT IS THE 
SAME THING, A PHILOSOPHY OF MAN, GOD, AND NA- 
TURE, NOT ONLY POSSIBLE, BUT INEVITABLE. 

SECT. II. ERRORS IN PSYCHOLOGY WHICH HAVE PREVENTED THE 
FINDING OF A TRUE ONTOLOGY. 

I. a. These are errors as to the relation of the faculty and the ob- 
jects of knowledge. The errors in the systems of mental science and 
philosophy have for the most part arisen from two causes, to wit : on 



PERSONALITY. 663 

the one hand the wrong object has been chosen as the first object of 
knowledge, and as the material out of which and from which to form, 
the ideas and categories with which to know other objects. 

b. And on the other hand, the wrong faculties have been employed 
with which to cognize the object which is necessarily the first object to 
the miad, and which is the true material out of which to form the ideas 
and categories of the reason, with which to know other objects. Either 
external nature has been chosen as the first object of knowledge, and 
the material out of which to form ideas or categories on the one hand, 
or the senses and the reason have been employed as the faculties with 
which to begin knowledge and to form ideas on the other. These errors 
are, each of them, fatal to any true science, either of the faculties of the 
mind or the operations of knowing. 

c. For, in the first instance, it is impossible, as we have repeatedly 
shown, to begin any knowledge with the senses, as their knowing 
requires a knowing preceding them. It is, in the second instance, im- 
possible to begin with the reason, as it can never comprehend anything 
until it has something given to it to comprehend. The faculty, there- 
fore, which alone can begin our knowing is the consciousness ; and that 
which is present as the first object of which the ideas and categories of 
; the reason are to be formed, with which ideas and categories we know 
other objects, is the being and faculties of the mind itself. 

d. That the mind itself must of necessity be the first object of 
knowledge, is, as we have repeatedly shown, manifest from the fact that 
it is unavoidably the first object with which the mind comes in contact. 
The first tiling which the intelligence grasps is its own intelligence 
grasping its own intelligent self; it, therefore, must be the first object 
of knowledge : moreover, the human personality itself is, as we have 
shown, the only object which i's general and comprehensive enough in 
its nature to furnish the means of forming ideas of all objects and things 
in the universe, viz., matter and mind, body and spirit, nature and the 
supernatural, mortal and immortal, free and necessary ; man is all these : 
his composite and comprehensive nature covers all these varieties of 
being and life, he therefore is the only object out of which ideas and 
categories can be formed, with which to cognize substance, cause, quali- 
ties, quantities, person, soul, God, and nature. 

e. From these two causes all existing systems of mental science 
are not only erroneous, but fatally defective. They use the wrong fac- 
ulty with which to begin knowing ; they take a faculty which is incapa- 
ble of knowing anything in the first instance, and is incapable of 
knowing either substance, causes, or personality in any instance. 

/. And then they take a wrong object. with which to begin knowing, 
and one which is totally inadequate, no matter how well known, to sup- 



664 AUTOLOGY. 

ply the ideas and the categories with which to know man, God, and 
nature. 

g. For whosoever undertakes to find man or God by studying nature 
will fail as certainly as if he expected to find gold by analyzing clay ; 
and whosoever undertakes to know the mind by means of mere sense 
and reason will as certainly fail as he who attempts to see with the 
ear, or to smell with the eye. The mind or self, in its being and facul- 
ties, can be given to us as facts only by the consciousness, and the ideas 
and categories with which to know substance, essence, cause, and per- 
sonality, as. man and God, and with which to know nature, can be 
formed by the reason only, and that from the facts of man's being and 
faculties given by the consciousness. Now, from mistaking these two 
things come all the great defects, error's, and disputes of mental sci- 
ence, and also the kindred defects, errors, and disputes in metaphysics 
and theology. 

II. a. Errors as to the different kinds of knowing and the material 
and number of the categories and their certain applicableness to exter- 
nal objects. 

b. All knowing is either absolute or relative. Absolute knowing is 
where the knower and the known are identical. Eelative knowing is 
where the knower employs a medium, and by it knows an object outside 
of himself. In other words, by absolute knowing we know th'e cate- 
gories, but in relative knowing we know by means of the categories. 

c. The consciousness comes'into immediate contact with itself and with 
the self, of which it is an all-pervading element, and knows absolutely its 
facts, and presents them to the reason; the reason also comes into direct 
contact with the facts and with its own comprehending of the facts of con- 
sciousness, and, by comprehending its owa comprehending of them, trans- 
figures them into ideas or categories, and this also is absolute knowing. 

d. These categories or ideas are the subjective instruments of know- 
ing correspondent objects without. The idea within the mind is the 
knowable of the object to be known ; while outside of the mind the idea 
is the essential nature of the object to be known, and with which it is 
homogeneous. 

e. The question here arises, How can we be assured as to the precise 
number and nature of the categories, how know when we have got 
them all, and how know when we have got more than all ? The reply 
is, that the personality furnishes the facts from which all primary ideas 
and categories are made, and when it is all used up into ideas and cate- 
gories, then are they complete ; any idea or category for which the con- 
sciousness does not give a pre-existing fact, in the personality, is falla- 
cious ; and if any part of the personality is left out, and not worked up 



PERSONALITY. 665 

into ideas and categories, then there is a deficiency in the number and 
nature of ideas and categories. 

/. In the preceding chapters the personality as a test and key of 
knowledge has been fully set forth. It need only be here added, that the 
personality is the test" and key to all knowledge because it furnishes both 
the faculties for making the categpries and tlie material out of which 
to make them ; that is, it furnishes the intelligence that can make the 
categories and the facts out of which to make them. The consciousness 
furnishes the facts in the being and nature of personality, and the reason 
turns them into ideas or categories. Then, with these categories in its 
hand as keys, the mind goes forth to unlock all the storehouses of knowl- 
edge, and with them as measures and weights to ascertain the amount 
of each. 

g. Now, the knowing of the consciousness and the reason, in that 
they are the intelligence by which the categories (which are the instru- 
ments and measures of relative knowing) are made, must of neces- 
sity be an absolute knowing, as we have above shown, and must be the 
test of all relative knowing ; and the personality, in that it is the material 
out of which the categories are made, and actually becomes the categories, 
is the key of all knowledge. 

h. For we have seen that the personality has in it all natures, and is 
homogeneous with all things, so that categories for knowing all things — 
man, God, and nature — may be made out of it, and by them all things' 
may be known. Thus is the personality the test and the key to all 
knowledge ; and by this test and this key can all knowing and all in- 
struments be tried. 

i. It must here be remembered that the consciousness and the reason 
are the co-ordinate beginners of knowledge — the first, of facts, the second, 
ideas. Consciousness both as a formative principle and as a knowing 
faculty is the ultimate source of knowledge ; the personality is its proper 
and legitimate domain ; here it explores, and here it can bring to light 
and reveal all the facts that are within it : when these facts are found, 
then *can the reason form the ideas and categories, and when they are so 
formed by the reason from all these facts of consciousness, then are all 
the materials of the personality worked up, and then are all the cate- 
gories formed. 

j. We thus, and thus alone, may be certain that we .have got all, 
and no more than all, the categories ; viz., when we have formed /and 
made up all the facts of consciousness into them. In this way alone 
can we obtain a complete test and complete key of all knowledge. The 
full table of facts, ideas, and categories can be found in Part III. We 
here re-state, for the sake of illustration, only some head categories ; 
viz., Personality, Brute Life, and Inanimate Nature : — 
84 



666 AUTOLOGY. 

I. Categories of Personality. 1. Human personality, or Man. 2. Im- 
mortal personality, or Soul. 3. Absolute personality, or God. Con- 
taming, 1. Will. 2. Affections. 3. Intellect. 4. Conscience. 5'. 
Personality. 6. Free cause. 

II. Categories of Brute Life. 1. Self. 2. Intellect. 3. Propen- 
sities, Feelings, Dispositions. 

III. Categories of the Nature of Things, or Inanimate Nature. 
1. Cause. 2. Effect. 3. Time. 4. Quantity. 5. Space. 6. Ac- 
tion and reaction. 7. Substance. 8. Qualities. 

IV. Categories of Mode. 1. Possible. 2. Actual. 3. Necessary. 

By these categories, with those involved in them, all based on the 
facts of consciousness, can the mind cognize all things — the soul, God, 
and nature. 

a. Now, the question here arises, How is the idea, as a conception, 
of the knowable of an object within the mind found to be applicable to that 
object without the mind ? And how is it shown to be a true interpreta- 
tion of it, so that, the object to which it is thus applied shall be truly 
known ? The reply is, that all this has been fully shown in Part III. of 
this work, where the whole genesis and a full definition of the ideas of 
the reason from the facts of consciousness, and their formation into the 

-categories, have been given. 

b. As to the certainty of the applicableness of the categories thus 
formed, and the correctness . of their interpretations of the external 
objects to which they are applied, we say, in this place, first, they are 
homogeneous with all the objects in the universe, and, of course, are 
applicable to them. 

c. The personality gives, as we have seen, categories of man, and 
God, and nature ; the act of applying them to these objects respectively 
is by contact and sensations without, noted and cognized by the ideas 
or categories within. The consciousness and reason within are in the 
same unity with contact and sensations without ; and, having first given 
themselves to themselves within, they are prepared, with the same as- 
sured intelligence, to give the external object to themselves by means of 
contact and sensations, translated, as we have seen in Part III., by the 
reason, and handed over to the consciousness. 

d. There can be no consciousness of contact with an external object, 
either real or imaginary, until there is first a consciousness of an indi- 
viduality separate and independent within. 

e. External contact is, therefore, an evidence of an independent self, 
existing before and essential to it. We have thus not ©nly a key to 



PEKSONALITY. 66T 

the knowledge of all external objects, in the personality, but also a stan- 
dard by which we can measure the systems of mental science and of 
philosophy of other authors, and ascertain whether they are redundant 
or deficient. 

f. Personality, as a system of faculties., is a test to other systems of 
the mental faculties ; while the operations of these faculties are a test 
of the operations of knowing, as given by other systems of the mind ; 
and personality, as giving the facts for the formation of the ideas and 
categories of knowing, is the test of all systems of the philosophy of 
man, God, and nature. 

g. We give below a partial summary of errors arising out of the pre- 
ceding causes. These errors relate to the faculties, the structure, and 
the operations of the mind, -and to its knowledge of liberty, of immor- 
tality, and of God, and are as follows : — 

h. Psychology consists of three parts ; viz., 1. The faculties of the 
mind ; 2. the operations of the mind ; and, 3. the first object of 
knowledge, — or, the knowing faculties, and the acts of those faculties 
in knowing, and the first object known by them. A complete psychology 
will give all these. 

i. Now, the authors hereinafter examined have failed in regard to all 
these departments of mental science. 

1. They have failed to show how the mind can be an object of knowl- 
edge to itself. 

2. They have universally failed to give distinctively all the faculties 
of the mind. 

3. They have made a still greater failure in constructing the mind and 
building it up, as a whole, out of its faculties. 

4. They have totally disregarded the vital and dynamical unity and 
living individuality of the mind as a complete personality; their mind is 
a medley of disjointed faculties and ill-defined operations. 

5. Most of them fail to give any explanation of the operations of 
knowing. 

6. They almost universally begin their investigations by examining 
something outside of the mind, instead of the mind itself. They make 
something else, and not the mind itself, the first object and the measure 
of knowledge. 

7. They fail to begin their investigations with the question, How can 
the mind begin to act, and how can it begin to know ? and thereby are 
unable to show whether it can do anything or know anything. 

8. They consequently fail to find the true nature of liberty, and the 
true nature of consciousness. 

9. They are, as another consequence, unable to show the difference 
between true absolute liberty and mere alternative action ; and they 



668 AUTOLOGY. 

are incompetent to show the difference between absolute knowing and 
mere relative knowing. 

10. They begin all knowing with the senses, or with the reason, and 
consequently are utterly unable to know anything certainly. They, of 
necessity, make all knowing merely relative knowing, and of this they 
have no possible verification, and consequently can know nothing, but 
must betake themselves to primary beliefs and ethical instincts. 

11. As still another consequence, they are unable to find any test of 
knowledge, as to its certainty ; for since they denied the true nature of 
consciousness, they could not know that man could know anything ab- 
solutely, for the self-seeingness of consciousness is the test of absolute 
knowledge, as the impenetrability of individualities respectively is the 
test of relative knowing. 

12. They could not know substances, essences, or causes, because 
they denied that the consciousness is self-seeing ; for consciousness is of 
the essence of man's being, and sees itself and all the elements of man's 
essence and being. 

13. They could not know man as a soul essentially immortal in his 
nature, because they failed to understand the essential intelligence as 
self-seeing, and the essential activity as self-active ; the latter the essence 
of life, and the former the essence of spirit ; and both constituting man 
an essentially immortal soul. 

14. Failing to understand man's essential and absolute liberty, and 
failing to understand his essential and absolute intelligence, and his 
essential spirit, and his immortal nature, they have failed to develop, 
therefore, his true ethical nature, and consequent accountability. Man 
has 'first liberty, affections, and reason ; then he has conscience. He has 
first a free and rational, and essentially immortal being ; then he grows 
into an ethical being, having conscience and duty. 

15. They have failed to give any ground for the number or kind of 
the ideas and categories of the reason employed in their systems of either 
psj'chology or ontology. 

16. In short, failing to find, at the outset, the two primordial elements 
of essential activity and essential intelligence, they have failed to get a 
true knowledge of the mind, failed to make it the first object of knowl- 
edge and the first source of liberty. 

17. They have failed to understand personality, and failed to make it 
the first great explaining fact of all things; that is, they failed to examine 
the facts of the human personality, to distinguish, discriminate, and de- 
fine them ; and failed to form from them the ideas and categories of the 
reason, and find thus a sure, and complete, and exhaustive basis and rea- 
son in the nature of being itself, for the number and kind of their ideas 
and categories. As a consequence, they have called their ideas innate, 



PERSONALITY. 669 

or pure conceptions of the reason ; or they have gathered them from 
noting the operations of the mind in cognizing, but have had no certainty 
as to their origin, nature, or number. 

18. Because they began their investigations with the ideas of the vea- 
son, or the facts of the senses, instead of the facts of consciousness, 
they have failed utterly to know man as a free, affectional, rational, and 
ethical soul, and hence have found not only no test of knowing, but have 
failed to find any key to universal knowledge. 

19. Because they have failed to know man as a free, affectional, ra- 
tional, and ethical personality, they have had no key, i. e., no known 
quantity, by which they could know God as man's Author and Creator; 
and because they could not thus find out God's being through man's 
personality, they were, of course, utterly unable to find out any Creator 
and Author of nature. 

20. And thus their theories end in an utter inability to know man, or 
God, or nature, and leave all in the mist of idealism, the mud of materi- 
alism, the whirlwind of scepticism, or the slough of a desponding 
nihilism. 



CHAPTER IV. 

PERSONALITY RENDERS AN ONTOLOGY, OR, WHAT IS THE 
SAME THING, A PHILOSOPHY OF MAN, GOD, AND NATURE, 
NOT ONLY POSSIBLE, BUT INEVITABLE. 

SECT. III. ERRORS AS TO THE NATURE OF THE INFINITE AND 
ABSOLUTE WHICH HAVE PREVENTED THE DISCOVERY OF A 
TRUE ONTOLOGY. 

a. A mistake, which, if it.be not the greatest possible of all mistakes, 
is yet so great as to render all attempts to form an ontology, or, what is 
the same thing, a philosophy which shall comprehend man, God, and 
nature, in one whole, utterly unavailing, is that which is made by all 
authors with whom the writer is conversant, from Thales of Miletus to 
Comte of Paris, as to the true nature of the infinite and the absolute. 
Men are perpetually putting the finite for the infinite, and then perpetu- 
ally telling us that it is the infinite which is incomprehensible ; whereas 
it is the finite alone which is incomprehensible, and the infinite which is 
completely and perfectly comprehensible. 

b. Men are perpetually mistaking God's works for God himself, and 



670 AUTOLOGY. 

God's ways for God himself. Now, the Bible does not affirm that God is 
incomprehensible, but that his "judgments are unsearchable, and his 
ways past finding out ; " and when God's greatness is pronounced " un- 
searchable," it is in reference to his "wonderful works," which succes- 
sive generations should be unable to recount ; so that it is not the in- 
finiteness of God's being which is here spoken of, but the unendingness 
of his works, and that as to number, and extent, and duration ; but this is 
the finite and not the infinite. 

c. God is not self-existent because he has endured through centuries 
so numerous that men can never number them, but because he has ex- 
isted always in past time for the same reason that he exists now, and he 
will exist in all time to come for the same reason that he exists now or 
has existed in the past, and he exists in all time for the same reason that 
he exists at all. God's creative power does not consist in the number 
or magnitude of the worlds which he can or has created, but it consists 
simply in the power to create at all : to create anything, a pebble or an 
acorn, as much as to create a world, shows God's creative power. 

d. So God's omnipotence does not consist, in the number or magnitude 
of the worlds which he can uphold by the word of his power, but in the 
fact that he can absolutely uphold anything, however great or small, by 
his power. 

e. Christ's divinity was not shown by the number or nature, but by 
the fact of his miracles. 

/. The same is true of wisdom, knowledge, holiness, omnipresence. 
God has not these attributes because he has thought, chosen, or acted 
sagaciously and purely for a great many times, but because so it is his 
nature to act. 

g. God is not intelligent because he knows a vast number of things, but 
because it is his nature to know whatsoever is the subject of knowledge. 

h. God is not omnipresent because he has as many furlongs of size 
as the heavens, but because space has no significance with regard to 
him : he is present everywhere for the same reason that he is present 
anywhere. 

i. Just so he is omnipotent because weight has no significance to 
him, any more than it has to the great laws of gravitation. 

j. In short, personality is the only possible and the only true infinite. 
The infinite is not that which, while it can be measured, we yet can never 
complete the measurement of, for want of time ; for that is finite still. 
It is not that to which measure may be applied, yet which no number 
of furlongs can ever completely reach or circumscribe, by reason of its 
extent ; for that is finite also. 

k. So with regard to space : space is not infinite, but finite ; for that 
only is space which is filled with worlds or beings of some sort, and is 



PERSONALITY. 6U 

therefore measurable, if we only had time and strength enough to do it ; 
nay, though God should keep on eternally creating, still it would be 
measurable and finite ; and its measurement would not be complete only 
because we never could overtake' God in his creation, which would be 
always going on ; still all would be but finite, and that eternally. 

I. Should God stop creating, and should we actually come to the 
limit of his works, as we might, only give us time enough, then no one 
would doubt that his works, however great, are still finite. 

m. But what shall we say of that which lies beyond God's works ? 
What is that ? Is not that infinite space ? No ; it is nothing ; it is sim- 
ply negative possibility, and not space. 

n. Positive and effective possibility lies in the personal power of 
God, and not in anything exterior to him : that possibility is an ele- 
ment of God's personality, which is the only true infinite and absolute. 

o. It is possible for God to create space and fill it" indefinitely ; for 
God's works are not infinite, but finite ; that is, they can be measured, 
at least by himself, if by no one else. 

p. A creature may number and measure at God's works forever and 
ever, and never complete his task ; yet that does not prove them infinite, 
but only finite still. 

q. The true infinite and the true absolute, which are identical, and 
which are in God's personality alone, cannot be measured nor measured 
at ; for no kind of measure has any possible application to them. 

r. The infiniteness'and absoluteness of God's personality does not lie 
in its extent, nor in the number of its faculties, but in its nature ; and 
it can in no way, nor in any possible respect, be the subject of measure 
or comparison. 

s. God's personality is an assemblage of positives, which are abso- 
lutely infinite and infinitely absolute. It is surrounded by nothing but 
negatives, which negatives are nothing ; therefore the personality of 
God is simply absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute. It is person, 
and not thing. 

t. Eternity, as we call it, is not infinite, but finite. It simply means a 
number of years so great that we cannot count them, and a continuance 
of them so long that we cannot come to the end of them. It is simply 
the perpetual occurrence of events, time extended unendingly ; yet this 
is all measurable and numberable, and of course finite still. 

u. Thus is it evident that the infinite is not the sum total of all the 
universe ; for that is only finite, however great. It is no extent of time, 
no multiplication of number, no length or breadth or depth of space ; 
for all that is but finite still. 

v. Nor is it the universe with God added to it ; for God and his 
works are not capable of being added together. God is not a unit to 



6?2 AUTOLOGY. 

which another unit, i. e., a second, and a third, and a fourth, etc., may be 
added, summing up the total five, or more, which sum total is the infinite 
and absolute ; but God is a person, while the universe of worlds is but 
thing ; and man is a finite person, while God is an infinite person, and 
absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute. God's personality, then, is 
infinite and absolute without the universe of his works and man, and ex- 
clusive of them, for they are finite and contingent. The infinite, then, is 
absolute ; it is not the great whole of all things, for that great whole 
is variable and contingent, and is finite still. It is not that which we 
can either measure or number completely, or measure or number at 
indefinitely, for these are but the finite still. 

w. But the absolutely infinite and the infinitely absolute is the per- 
sonality of God — God as person, with whom" there is no variableness 
neither shadow of turning, and to which no possible measure or num- 
ber has, or can have, any possible application, either in whole or in part, 
but which is wholly, as to its absolute infiniteness and infinite absolute- 
ness, unhomogeueous with, and incomparable with, and incompatible 
with, all and any other possible thing or person in the universe. God's 
person is alone and sui generis in its absolute infiniteness and infinite 
absoluteness ; all else is the finite. 

x. The great, the unmeasured, the unnumbered, the never to be 
measured or numbered, yet measurable and numberable, is finite. The 
vast, unending, everlasting, unlimited, indefinite, eternal, is finite ; and 
is that which no man can comprehend or ever find out ; while God, the 
absolutely infinite and the infinitely absolute, is comprehensible, and may 
be known by the humblest of his rational creatures. 



CHAPTER V. 

PERSONALITY THE ONLY TRUE DYNAMICS AND THE ONLY 
TRUE ONTOLOGY OF THE UNIVERSE. 

A. a. By the Dynamics pf the universe is meant the power that 
produces and sustains it. 

b. And by Ontology is meant the science of the being of the universe. 

c. The human mind is ever yearning to comprehend the universe as 
to cause, nature, and end : this problem lies in the compass of man, God, 
and nature. 



PERSONALITY. 6Y3 

d. The mind longs amidst the contingent to find the absolute, and 
amidst the perishing to find the enduring ; amidst perpetual effects to 
find a perduring cause ; and amidst contradictions and confusion, un- 
meaningness and restlessness, to find some rational and worthy end for 
the existence of all things. 

e. This desire can find repose only in two conclusions : the one is, 
that all things have a necessary existence, either in self-existence or in a 
necessary cause ; the other is, that all things had a beginning in an 
intelligent and free Author. 

f. If it be concluded that all things are self-existent or have a neces- 
sary cause, then are the first and lowest forms of life sought as they 
are found in nature ; and here we are bidden to stop with the peremp- 
tory and magisterial announcement that science goes no farther than 
this observed fact, which is the last, most ultimate, simple and primitive, 
which can be found. Here all things are ; here we find them perpetu- 
ally the same and forever. 

g. From this it is concluded that Nature, in her elements, laws, and 
forces, is eternal ; that man is the highest development of Nature, and 
is consequently the greatest and highest intellectual and moral being in 
the universe, eternal in his genus, like the rest of nature, but like the 
rest of nature also perpetually coming and going, passing through the 
round of births and deaths with all the succeeding generations. This 
is the boasted position of what is called the "positive philosophy," or 
the scientific system of man, God, and nature. 

h. But this does not satisfy the demands of the free, affectional, ra- 
tional, and ethical soul of man. Man knows himself contingent both in 
the genus and in the species, yet knows himself as will, affections, rea- 
son, and conscience, or a living soul ; and for himself, as contingent, 
yet spiritual, free, rational, ethical, and accountable, demands an author. 

i. They who rest in the conclusion that nature is eternal, and that 
man is eternal also, first degrade man to the level of nature, and make 
him part of it. They then, having denied his free will, reason, and con- 
science, and having thus dismantled and imbruted him, treat him like a 
brute. 

j. But they to whom man's free will, reason, and conscience are 
facts, stubborn, but known and most undeniable, cannot be thus satisfied 
with making man and nature either necessary or self-existent and 
eternal. They demand for the free, rational soul, a free, rational au- 
thor, and cannot be satisfied short of it ; and to such the only true dy- 
namics of the universe is the personal God. 

k. To them man is a person, and not a thing, and demands an author 
and creator, who is a person, and not a thing. They know man is con- 
tingent, yet a soul, and that he is not of the category of nature's works, 
85 



6U AUTOLOGY. 

and is spirit; hence they demand for him a homogeneous and an ade- 
quate cause and author. 

L But here let it be carefully observed, that while man knows him- 
self contingent, yet he desires to repose on an adequate, and perduring, 
and uniform cause and support. While man's creator and sustainer 
must be free like himself, yet he must be self-existent, permanent and 
unchangeable, and absolute in his nature. This will be found in all the 
traditions, writings, and histories of man. 

to. A true ontology, or science of being, therefore, will demand, 
first, an adequate, perduring, self-existing, and absolute cause for all 
being, both man and nature. 

n. It also demands for them a reason and an end ; a cause adequate 
to produce all being, which cause is its own cause, reason, and ground 
of existence, while it is the cause, reason, and ground of all it produces, 
and shows a rational and sufficient end in the actual structure and results 
of the universe, of man and nature, thus produced. 

o. This is what the human mind demands, and what will satisfy the 
claims of a true ontology. Where shall we find this first cause ? 

p. It will be in vain to assume that nature and humanity are homoge- 
neous and self-subsistent, and that no cause back of them is to be looked 
for. The human mind will not be so put to silence. Hume and Comte, 
under the specious title of science and "positive philosophy," may seek 
to silence inquiry, and bind down men to the observance of mere sen- 
suous phenomena, and to make them believe in a man without a soul, 
and a world without a God, and to make man and nature God ; but it 
will never satisfy any but " an evil heart of unbelief," that delights "in 
departing from the living God." 

q. It is in vain that any mere formative force or any mere architec- 
tural intelligence is resorted to as an adequate cause of man and nature. 
No mere designer, whose plan is supposed to be seen in the structure of 
man or of nature, can satisfy the demands of man for an adequate cause 
of his own being : all this power, intelligence, and design might be, 
and yet be only a necessary and mechanical force. 

r. Man, as a volitional, free, affectional, rational, and ethical being, 
still exists, neither self-existent nor self-produced, and demands for 
himself an author, not simply a cause, but a creator and author. 

s. And if a creator and author be found for man, then surely we have 
a cause adequate for all else ; for man is the first and highest being in 
the universe, and the author of the greater can surely be the cause of 
the less. 

t. Now, for man, volitional, free, affectional, rational, and ethical, 
for man thus a person, there can be no creator and author save the one 



PERSONALITY. 675 

personal God — the absolute personality — God, whose personality is 
absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute. 

u. He, an absolute, volitional, free, affectional, rational, and ethical 
person, can create man, who is a volitional, free, affectional, rational, and 
ethical person. Thus have we found that adequate, perduring, self- 
existing, and absolute cause for all being, both man and nature, which 
the human mind demands as the creator and source of a true ontology, 
or science of being. 

v. Placing, then, this absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute per- 
sonality and God in the centre, as the first and adequate, perduring, 
self-subsisting, and absolute cause of all that exists, we see that all 
within him is absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute, while all with- 
out him is produced by him, and is contingent and finite. 

w. Now, let it be recalled that the human mind demands that the uni- 
verse of nature and man be found to be self-existenfc, having its own 
cause, support, and end in itself; or it demands an adequate cause for 
the production, sustentation, and the ultimate direction and end, of the 
universe of nature and man, in some force or person outside of them 
and independent of them. This demand of the human mind having 
been satisfied by attributing the origin of itself and all things to a per- 
sonal God as creator and author, we further inquire 

I. What is the Proof that a Personal Creator really exists ? 

B. a. The reply is, that the proof is found in this simple principle ; 
viz., that whatsoever had a beginning had a beginner, and that the nature 
and power of the beginner are embodied in the thing begun. In other 
words, God, by creating, conditions himself; i. e., he ceases to be uncondi- 
tioned by creating the works by which he may be known alike as to being, 
nature, and power. 

b. To begin is to create, and to create is to give evidence of the 
being, nature, and power of the creator, so that such creator may be 
known by rational beings. 

c. If God could be supposed to be alone in the universe, he might be 
conceived as unknowable and unconditioned ; but the moment he creates, 
the moment he does something, produces something, he puts it in the 
power of intelligent beings to find him out, and know both that he is and 
ivhat he is ; i. e., he by creating reveals just so much of his nature and 
person as are requisite to produce those things. 

d. When, therefore, we find an object that had a beginning, the fact 
will prove a beginner, no matter what the object may be ; and if, in addi- 
tion thereto, the object have personality, that fact will prove that the be- 
ginner was a person also, and, as creator, the self-existent 7 almighty, and 



616 AUTOLOGY. 

personal God. If, therefore, we can find anything in the universe that 
had a beginning, we shall thereby find also that there is a beginner. 

II. Man is the only Object in the Universe whose Existence can 

FURNISH TO US THE PROOF OF A BEGINNING. 

a. There is but one object in the range of human knowledge which 
can be found to have had a beginning. That object is man, the free, 
affectional, rational, ethical soul of man in its human body : it can be 
found to have had a beginning. 

b. 1. In other words, that effect within the reach of human intelli- 
gence, which is free and personal, and which, while it is located in 
nature, is yet no part of nature, and which is evidence of a free and 
personal cause outside of nature, — a cause which is no part of nature, 
and which produces effects freely, just as necessary causes produce 
effects necessarily, — is man ; man as will, affections, intellect, and con- 
science, in one complete and unified personality. 

2. This free, rational, affectional, and ethical person is an effect; it has 
the certainty of a beginning, and of dependence upon an adequate power. 

3. That each man has a beginning out of nature and in the will of 
parents is a fact indisputable. 

4. That the first man must, therefore, have had his beginning without 
the will of parents and by the will of a creator, is certain.' 

5. And that this creator must have been free, affectional, rational, 
ethical, and personal also, is certain. 

c. Nothing but liberty in the effect can prove a beginning ; and when 
liberty is found in the effect, there is evidence both of a beginning and 
of liberty in the beginner. That nature had a beginning, and is not 
self-existent, cannot be satisfactorily demonstrated, though it is doubt- 
less true. Yet that man had a beginning, and is not self-existent, is 
demonstrable ; for when we have traced nature to its germ-egg or cell, 
we can go no farther ; we can only say the germ-egg or cell has in itself 
reproductive power, and seems to be self-existent, though perpetually 
coming and going. So also, when, tracing organic life and nature's for- 
mations through geological strata, we come to the point where they 
cease, we can only say we do not know whence they come ; or if we say 
they must have had a cause, they only demand a merely mechanical and 
necessary cause. 

d. But when we meet an actual live man, a living, volitional, free, 
affectional, rational, and ethical soul, who knows that he is not self- 
existent, and that lie is a rational soul, and not a mere animal, and when 
we know, as a matter of history, that this volitional, free, rational, and 
ethical soul had a beginning out of nature, above and independent of 
nature, and in the free will and actual choice of human parents, — 



PERSONALITY. 611 

e. Then ice know demonstrably, and without a guess, a conjecture, an in- 
ference, or a per adventure, that man, each man, all men, and every man, 
had a beginning out of nature, and in the choice of the free will of voli- 
tional, free, affectional, rational, ethical human parents. Wo know also 
that this human parentage extends back to the first parents, and then of 
course that those first parents must have had their origin in the creative 
authorship of an absolutely infinite and an infinitely absolute personality, 
and God. 

III. What is a Beginning ? 

a. That in the nature of man which proves that he had a beginning is 
the fact of his being himself a free will and a rational soul : as such he 
must have had a free cause. Now, a free cause alone can make a begin- 
ning ; lor the connection between a free cause and a free effect is not 
necessaiy, but free : a free cause, consequently, begins every time it acts, 
and ends every time it stops acting ; for that is the nature of freedom. 
But to begin is to create, and to create is to produce something out of 
nothing but the nature and power of the creator. A beginning is not an 
arising out of nothing, nor is an ending a departing into nothing ; but a 
beginning is being begun by a power without any agency, material, or 
means, save its own power. Such a beginning is a creation, and an ending 
is the ceasing of that which was thus produced. Thus was man 
created. 

b. Man is the only object in nature which can be found to have had a 
beginning, and it is possible to prove that he had a beginning only be- 
cause he lias freedom. But when man, the greater, is proved to have had 
a beginning, then surely is it certain that all other objects had a begin- 
ning also, for the greater implies the less. And thus is it shown that 
the ultimate facts of science and religion have their origin in the one 
personal God, and that that God is the first cause and first fact of the 
universe, and as such may be certainly known both by reason and ex- 
perience. This alone will satisfy the facts of the case, and the reason 
of man with regard to a cause and a worthy end for man's existence. 
But this does not satisfy the whole case. 

IV. All Regress ceases in an Infinite and Absolute Free Cause. 

a. In a necessary cause the effect is a mere necessary fact or form of 
the cause, and inseparable from it ; but in a free cause the effect is 
distinct from it, stands apart and away from it, having no connecting 
forces binding it to its cause. A necessary cause can be sought by 
following up the chain of necessary connections in an unbroken regress 
from conditioned to condition forever, without ever finding a resting- 
place in an ultimate cause ; for the last cause demands a cause for itself 
as much as did the first effect in the series. 



6*78 AUTQLOGY. 

b. But not so with a free cause. Each particular free cause is ulti- 
mate in its nature in that it is free, and reposes, as in the regress of 
human parents, in a free personal cause ; viz., the infinite and absolute 
Jehovah, whose self-existence demands no cause. 

c. Thus, through the medium of free cause, we reach over the 
bridgeless nothingness that lies (as a fathomless and shoreless sea 
to mere necessary cause) all around " the island of nature," as Kant calls 
it, and lay firm hold on the absolute beyond it, by the hand of science 
and logic, and know that it is the personal Creator and God, infinitely 
absolute, absolutely infinite, and blessed forever. 

V. The Mind demands a Uniform Cause. 

a. Free will is in its nature contingent, and man's mind demands an 
absolute cause for nature and man ; and here arise the conflicting demands 
of the reason. It demands for all things a fixed, uniform, and unfailing 
cause. The human mind cannot bear that the universe of nature and of 
man should rest on any contingent, or changing, or failing cause. Yet, 
on the other hand, it shrinks from a merely necessary and mechanical 
cause. While it sees that a merely necessary and mechanical cause might 
be sufficient for nature, it demands for man a free, affectional, rational, 
and ethical cause, and demands that that free, affectional, and rational, 
and ethical cause of man be not contingent and uncertain, but that it be 
absolute, uniform, and unfailing. 

b. How, then, are these two demands of the reason to be met ? The 
reply is, They are to be met by placing a personality that is absolutely 
infinite and infinitely absolute as the all-producing, all-sustaining, and 
all-directing power of the universe. We can meet all these demands of 
these facts in the universe, and of the reason in regard to them, only by 
placing God's absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute personality as 
the one original, central, free, rational, affectional, and ethical, all-produ- 
cing, sustaining, and directing Dynamics of the universe. 

c. How, then, is it that this free, volitional, affectional, rational, and 
ethical personality is the perduring creator, and author, and cause of all 
that exists ? It is replied, that he is separate in nature and being from all 
that he produces. He does not produce by any mere impulse, tendency, 
desire, involuntary or necessary affection, disposition, force, or mode of 
existence, or necessary manifestation of himself. Man and nature are 
not a mode of God's existence — not the product of his necessarily pro- 
ducing power, which, as Cousin says, " pours itself out in creations, yet 
remains unexhausted; 7 ' for this would be only " natura naturans," — 
nature producing itself by necessary laws, — and would degrade God's 
personality to a mere nature's force, and make all merely one nature, — 
but that he is the uniform and permanent author and sustainer of all 
things by reason of the following attributes of his being, viz. : — 



PERSONALITY. 679 

VI. God's Reason, Conscience, and Heart secure Uniformity in 
the Laws of Nature and of the Mind of Man. 

a. This free, volitional, affectional, rational, ethical, and personal 
God created, and as author produced, man and nature from the behest 
of his own ethical nature, constraining 1 him as a matter of duty to him- 
self to produce all the good he could. And hence, in the full exercise 
of his will, his affections, his reason, and his conscience, God, the personal 
God, created man and nature because he felt that he ought to produce 
all the good he could around him. 

6. This conscience of the personal God is the perduring, unvarying, 
and eternal reason why he created rational souls and nature. It is be- 
cause the personal God, possessing in his own personality alone the sole, 
only, and complete, absolute infinite and infinite absolute, felt, and feels, 
under the moral obligation imposed by his own conscience to produce all 
the good he can in the universe, that he created and sustains rational 
souls and the worlds. 

c. This is the one uniform law of nature, and the uniform cause of all 
things. This is the true Dynamics of the universe and the true ontology, 
which will comprehend all the facts in the universe, and satisfy the de- 
mands of the human mind as a science and philosophy of man, God, and 
nature. Here a free, personal, absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute 
God is the creative author and uniform cause of free, personal, affectional, 
rational, and ethical man, and, being adequate to be his creator, he is also 
the adequate creator of nature as the abode of man. 

d. And thus we have God the absolutely infinite and infinitely ab- 
solute personality, and man the contingent and finite personality, and 
nature with its forces, all making one universe, but each distinct from 
the other ; man being the middle term, having affinity with nature be- 
low and God above him, and being, as we have already seen, the first 
fact of liberty, the first object of knowledge, and the only true key to a 
right knowledge of God and nature. 

e. Such is a true ontology as a theory. The practical operation and 
historical account of the actual working of this system of ontology is 
found in the first chapter of the book of Genesis, where it is recorded 
that in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, and that 
he made man in his own image, and that he pronounced all, when done, 
very good. 

/. Thus are the facts of the universe and the demands of reason 
all accounted for and satisfied. Man beholds the events in nature occur- 
ring in a uniform order, and demanding for themselves a uniform cause. 
He also beholds the fact of the free, rational, affectional, and ethical 
soul of man demanding for itself a free, rational, affectional, and ethical 



680 AUTOLOGY. 

cause. Yet it demands that that cause, though a free cause, shall be 
stable, and uniform, and perduring, aud not capricious, contingent, and 
changeable. All these requisitions are met in the personality of the 
free, rational, affectional, and ethical God, as creator and author. His 
free nature makes him capable of creating free beings. Thus is he 
capable of creating men, and if men, then anything. 

g. But God's free, rational, and affectional nature and attributes are 
under the positive and unvarying control of his ethical nature and con- 
science ; aud this attribute of the divine mind is uniform and perduring 
in its commands, and hence the action of the infinite personality is also 
uniform and perduring. Here we have the reason why the laws of 
nature are uniform, and why the course of nature is unvarying ; it is 
because God felt under obligations to make nature perfectly right. He 
felt under obligation to use his perfect liberty, his highest intelligence, 
and his purest heart for the production of the highest good. That highest 
good is holiness and love in the nature and life of his creatures. Hence 
God creates and sustains according to uniform principles. 

VII. Man's Origin a Father, not- a Fate. 

a. Men may know that they exist, not by caprice, not by arbitrary 
force, but that they exist because God felt under obligation to create 
them, and that he so felt because he saw that that would be the wisest, 
rightest, and lovingest thing which he could do. Man's existence, then, 
is not a fate, not a work of blind force in nature, but an intent of a wise 
and holy author, who created him and the world because he felt it his 
duty to do so, as the best, and rightest, and lovingest thing he could do 
in the universe. Thus have men and nature both a uniform and a free 
source, a necessary cause and a free author, in the personality of God ; 
and the whole problem is thus satisfied. 

b. God has in him both an affectional and a free or volitional nature, 
and acts from both in one harmony of free, rational, affectional, and 
ethical action. We need not, therefore, deny God to find a uniform 
cause for man, or nature, nor turn infidel for the sake of being scientific. 
God is both an absolute and a contingent, a uniform and a variable 
author and sustainer of all things. This is the only true science of 
being. 

c. And while God is thus the free, and at the same time uniform, 
author of man and nature, and furnishes (in the constant and invariable 
pressure of his own conscience, giving him the perpetual and everlasting 
sense of obligation to employ his infinite attributes for that which is 
rightest and lovingest), a certain and perduring cause for the creating 
and sustaining of man and nature, still that same conscience will impel him, 
for the same reason, to bring all this order of things in this world to an 



PERSONALITY. 681 

end, when to his own intelligence it shall be seen to be the rightest and 
lovingest to do so. Thus both stability and change, uniformity and con- 
tingency, freedom and necessity, have their source in the same author, 
and are exercised by the same God. 

d. And this is the one true and all-comprehending philosophy of man, 
God, and nature. This is the one true ontology, the one true science of 
being. It has its origin, exercise, and being in the one personal God — 
the God who is an absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute, free, 
rational, affectional, and ethical personality. No contingency nor vari- 
ableness is ever found in the divine mind ; the one law of holiness guides 
him forever. ' God's freedom ever obeys the peremptory commands of 
his conscience, according to the necessary rule of his reason. Thus 
are both liberty and necessity in God's nature and his actions. 

viii. gon may be known as a present object, and not simply as an 
Absent Cause. 

a. This will appear in the fact that every cause embodies itself in its 
effect so far as that effect extends ; i. e., just so much of the nature and 
power of the cause as was necessary to produce the effect is embodied 
in that effect. 

b. As the works of an author embody his genius, as the machine of 
an inventor embodies his quickness of wit, and cunningness of hand, so 
does the effect of any cause embody just so much of the nature and power 
of that cause as is requisite to produce it. 

c. This personal God embodies so much of his nature and power in 
man as is necessary to produce man; i. e., so much of the power and 
nature of God as it took to invent and produce man is shown and appears 
in man. 

d. The infinite and absolute God, by creating, shows what he is, and 
puts it in the power of rational souls to know, by what he has made, what 
he is ; and the infinite God, who was unconditioned and unapproach- 
able before, is both conditioned and knowable by what he has made. 

e. Now, what kind of a being is man, whom God has made, and in 
whose mechanism the nature and power of God are shown ? The reply 
is that he has created man a free, affectional, rational, ethical spirit, 
and, as such, a personality. In those respects, and to this extent, he is 
in the divine image ^and an embodiment of God. 

/. First. As such embodiment he is the effect, the free, personal, affec- 
tional, rational, and ethical effect, of a free, affectional, rational, and 
ethical cause, which cause is thus known by its effect. 

g. Second. As such an embodiment of a free, affectional, rational, and 
ethical cause, man is the phenomenal presence of that cause, and cog- 
nizable as an object, and not simply as an effect. Every cause is present 



682 AUTOLOGY. 

in its effect, so far as the nature and power of that cause are requisite to 
produce that effect; viz., Milton is present in his Paradise Lost, Shak- 
speare in his Hamlet and Lear, and all his plays, Kant in his Critique, 
Fulton in his steamboat, and Morse in his telegraph, just so far as their 
genius, nature, and power are necessary to produce these inventions. 
And so God is present in nature, in plants, in animals, and in man, just 
so far as his nature and power are requisite to produce these things. 

h. In none of them, however, does God embody himself so fully as in 
man. Nature furnishes but inferior exhibitions of his power and God- 
head. The human soul, however, as free, affectional, rational, ethical, 
and personal, does furnish an embodiment of the eternal power and God- 
head of God, in that it does show essential liberty, affectional interest, 
absolute knowledge, and ethical accountability. 

1. Man embodies the nature and power of God in that he has will. 

2. Man embodies the nature and power of God in that he has 
affection. 

3. lie embodies the nature and power of God in that he has reason. 

4. He embodies the nature and power of God in that he has a 
conscience. 

5. He embodies the nature and power of God in that he has spirit, 
life, and force ; and as such is a spirit. 

6. Man embodies the nature and power of God in that he is a com- 
plete personality. Now, as such an embodiment of God's nature -here 
present to our experience, man becomes the phenomenal presence of 
God, and by means of this phenomenal presence of his nature and power 
God may be cognized by the human mind as a present object, and not 
simply as a cause of a present object. 



CHAPTER VI. 

CONCLUSION. 

A Personal Creator the Ultimate Fact of Religion and Science. 

a. The ultimate proof of this proposition lies in the fact that to 
create man is to create everything. This conclusion has been already 
reached in the preceding chapter ; yet it will be well to bring it out 
distinctly as a result in a chapter by itself. That the personal God 
created man and nature by his own fiat, where there was nothing be- 
fore but his own personal presence and power, and that his creation is 



PERSONALITY. 683 

no part of himself, but the separate and distinct product of his almighty 
power under the behest of his own holiness guided by his own wisdom, 
have already been shown to be an inevitable sequence of man's nature as 
a free, affectional, rational, and ethical soul. It is this conclusion which 
we wish here to set forth more fully as the result of this chapter. This 
will, of course, require some re-statement of points and proofs before 
given, yet fully in order in this place. The proof of this proposition, 
that to create man is to create everything, lies, — 

b. First, in the fact that to do the greater implies the power to do the 
less. He that can create man can certainly create animal life, and also 
inanimate force or nature. Secondly, that man has in him all the ele- 
ments of being in the universe ; viz., Spirit, Life, and Force. Inanimate 
nature has only the lowest of these elements ; viz., force. Animal life 
has two ; viz., life and force ; but spirit has all these ; viz., spirit, life, and 
force : therefore to create man is to create nature, with all her life and 
force ; for man has both these elements in his own spirit-nature. God, 
as a free cause, created man as a free, affectional, rational, and ethical 
spirit, with a human body, and in so doing began man, and in beginning 
man began nature and all things. Nothing but a free, personal God 
can begin or create anything. Thus the ultimate facts of religion and 
science are identical, and are found in a personal creator. 

c. With these points premised it will appear that this free personal 
God, being infinitely absolute and absolutely infinite, can create some- 
thing out of nothing, — i. e., nothing besides his own power, — and must 
be the creator of the free, personal effect, man. As a free cause, God can 
embody thought and life in a world of material forces, and of living, 
rational, affectional, and ethical souls. 

d. God is not a mere mechanic, but a creator. The mechanic can 
only embody thought in matter and material forms ; but God, the creator, 
can posit force in existence outside of himself, and he can embody action 
in force, as gravitation ; and life in force, as plants ; and life, sensi- 
bility, and intelligence in force, as in animals ; and life, freedom, affec- 
tion, intelligence, and ethicalness in force, as in man, or spirit ; making 
a person having will, affections, intellect, and conscience. 

e. And all this he can throw out and posit separate and distinct from 
himself as a free cause. A necessary cause is only another form of its 
own effect, as a necessary effect is only another form of its own cause. 
But a free personal cause is no part of its own effects, but independent 
and distinct from them. So a free personal effect is no part of its own 
.free personal cause, but is of necessity, and in its own nature, free, 
separate, and distinct from it. 

/. It will also be seen that any effect of even a free personal cause is 
proof only of the existence in that cause of such power as is necessary 



684 AUTOLOGY. 

to produce such effect. The effect "gravitation" is proof only that its 
cause had activity and force. The effect "plant" is proof only that its 
cause had life and force. The effect "animal" is proof only that its cause 
had life, affection, intellect, and force. While the effect "man" is 
proof that its cause had spirit, life, force, freedom, affection, intelligence, 
ethicalness, and personality. Nothing smaller than a given effect can 
be the cause of that effect : the cause may, however, be capable of in- 
finitely more than is embodied in the effect, but of less it cannot be. A 
cause, therefore, must be so far like its effect as to be capable of produ- 
cing it. 

g. Is it asked, Whence is this spirit, this life, this force, this free- 
dom, this affection, this intelligence, this ethicalness, which by the act 
of creation are placed in a distinct and independent being ? The reply is, 
They are thrown off by the free will and power of God, who is an abso- 
lute and infinite, and, of course, self-existent personality. 

h. Whence do human personalities go when they disappear? The 
reply is, that it is not proved that they disappear from others, or cease 
to be, because they go away from us ; they can become nothing only 
when God ceases to keep them in being. A personal creator is, then, 
the ultimate fact of all knowledge, and all science, and all religion ; all 
things agree and centre in him as their supreme Author and Source. 



PERSONALITY. 685 



CHAPTER VII. 

PERSONALITY QUESTIONS. 

SECT. I. MIRACLES. 

A. 

Is a Miracle possible ? 
If, as shown in the two preceding' chapters, God, as a free, affectional, 
rational, and ethical personality, having in himself spirit, life, and force, 
and being absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute in all, is the true dy- 
namics and the ultimate fact of the universe, then surely the working of a 
miracle is not an abnormal, but a normal event, not an unnatural, but a 
natural thing, and on occasion to be expected from him : it is not an 
anomaly, but the law of the universe. 

B. 

What is a Miracle ? 

a. A miracle is the exertion of the power of God creating or con- 
trolling the laws and forces of nature or spirit. 

b. All miracles are, therefore, divided into two classes ; to wit, Crea- 
tive and Scientific. 

c. A creative miracle is wrought when God calls a being or force into 
existence which did not exist before. 

d. A scientific miracle is wrought when God employs an existing 
being or force for a chosen end, at a time or place, and under circum- 
stances in which they would not, by their own action and tendency, have 
produced such a result. 

e. When, in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth, he 
performed a creative miracle ; when he divided the waters of the Red Sea, 
he wrought a scientific miracle. 

/. When Christ raised the dead, he wrought a creative miracle ; when 
ho multiplied the loaves and fishes, he wrought a scientific miracle. 

g. The reason for this distinction is the well-known principle in phi- 
losophy, that no greater cause is to be sought for an effect than is 
requisite. 

h. Those miracles, therefore, which God can work by a wise and 



686 AUTOLOGY. 

skilful wielding' and combination of existing forces, do not require the 
creation of a new force, but only a miraculous use of existing forces. 

i. The greater part of Christ's miracles are of this kind — though it 
is not possible for us to tell by what particular power a miracle is 
wrought. Yet Christ's raising the dead could not have been a merely 
scientific miracle ; for certainly reviving a dead and decayed body, and 
calling back a departed soul, could be done only by the creative power 
of God, in the form of a creative miracle. 

j. Should God wish to collect all the asteroids which revolve be- 
tween the orbits of Mars and Jupiter into one world, and should he for 
that purpose create in the heavens above a world so large, as that by its 
superior attractive forces it would be able to attract all those fragmentary 
asteroids to itself, and bind them all together in one world ; and should 
he place the world so created in the midst of these asteroids, and set it 
wheeling with them on its own axis and round the sun, until as a fact it 
had actually drawn, and actually joined them all to itself, — all this 
would present the case of a twofold miracle ; that is, of two classes of 
miracles, the creative and the scientific. 

k. The creative miracle would be wrought when God in the heavens 
created the new world and brought it into being ; the scientific miracle 
would be wrought when he placed it in the space between the orbits of 
Mars and Jupiter, and where it, according to existing laws, revolved 
round the sun, and attracted and attached to itself all the multitude of 
fragmentary asteroids existing and revolving there, and combined them 
all into one world. 

I. The reasons for this distinction are obvious. In the first case, God 
creates a new force, and the miraculousness of the act consists in the 
exercise of creative power. 

in. In the second case, God employed an existing force, and the mi- 
raculousness consisted in the greater knowledge of the use of such forces, 
and in employing them at a time and place in which they by their own 
nature and tendency would not have acted ; and in achieving results 
thereby which they never could have achieved. 

n. This discrimination will be found applicable to all the miracles re- 
corded in the Bible ; and according to it, all miracles, except the creation 
of the world and man, and the raising of the dead, must belong to the 
class of scientific miracles ; to wit, — 

o. The deluge, the dividing of the Red Sea, the gush of water from 
the rock, the manna : all these miracles God could do without creating 
any new force, but merely by a miraculous or superhuman wielding of 
existing forces. 

p. So also, in the New Testament, the miracles wrought by Christ and 
his apostles needed no creation of a new force of nature, but only the 



PERSONALITY. 68T 

skilful employment of forces already existing ; as when he made wine, 
multplied the loaves and fishes, opened the eyes of the blind, the ears of 
the deaf, when he healed the sick and stilled the waves. 

q. In all these cases Christ needed no new force to be created for 
this purpose, but only showed his superhuman knowledge, wisdom, skill, 
and power in wielding, at his own time and place, and for his own end, 
the forces of nature already existing. We therefore suppose that these 
miracles of Christ were purely scientific, and not creative miracles. 

C. 

But was this Working of either Scientific or Creative Miracles ant 
Violation of the Laws of Nature ? 

a. No. Should God create a new world, and place it between the 
orbits of Mars and Jupiter, as above described, and set it to revolving, 
and to attracting and combining with itself all the asteroids which are 
there, it would not violate, but would co-operate and harmonize with 
all the laws of nature extant, known or unknown. 

b. Should God create a world, and place it outside of the solar 
system, or outside of all systems, still it would be in harmony with 
them. 

c. Should he stop the sun and the moon, as he did for Joshua, or 
cause the shadow to go back on the dial of Ahaz, he would violate no 
law of nature, nor do any more than an engineer does on a steamboat or 
car when he reverses the engine, and causes the boat or car to stop or 
to run backward. 

d. And by this we mean that Christ could command the presence, 
the action, and the combination of such chemical and mechanical forces 
and agents already existing in nature as are necessary to achieve the 
result. 

e. In making wine, he needed only to command the presence and 
make the combination of the elements — as saccharine and others — 
necessary to be mixed with the water, or to make a chemical change in 
the water in order to make wine. 

f. So also it may be said of the discoveries and inventions of modern 
art. For instance. The telescope, the steam engine, the telegraph, 
the thousand- spindled machine, the power-loom, the hydraulic press, 
the art of printing, the mariner's compass, — had Christ spoken these 
into being by a word, they would all have been miracles of the kind 
which we have called scientific, as they require nothing but the 
chemical and mechanical combination of existing forces in order to their 
production. 



AUTOLOGY. 



But it will be asked, If Christ only wields the Forces op Nature 
in the Performance of his wonderful Deeds, wherein consists the 
Miracle ? Wherein does he differ from the Chemist, the Machinist, 
or the Scientist in general? 

a. The answer is, that the miracle consists, in these cases, in his power 
to command, control, and employ, at any time and place, the forces of 
nature in such combinations, as suit his chosen purposes. 

b. Let the case of the Roman centurion both answer and illustrate 
this question. He came to the Saviour at Capernaum, beseeching him in 
behalf of his servant, who was sick of a palsy. " Jesus said unto him, 
I will come and heal him." 

c. The centurion answered and said, " Lord, I am not worthy that 
thou shouldest come under my roof; but speak the word only, and my 
servant shall be healed. For I am a man under authority, having sol- 
diers under me, and I say to this man, Go, and he goeth, and to another, 
Come, and he cometh, and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it. And 
when Jesus heard it, he marvelled, and said to them that followed him, 
Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel." 
Here the centurion recognized Christ as in authority, having power to 
control nature and employ her forces at his pleasure. 

d. The miraculousness consisted in this power to command and con- 
trol the forces of nature, though when he did employ them it was in 
accordance with the laws of nature, and not against them. 

e. The distinction we have made is observable in the case of Lazarus. 
Said the Jews, " Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, 
have caused that even this man should not have died?'' If Christ had 
caused that Lazarus should not die, it would have been only a scientific, 
and not a creative miracle. The Jews expressed no higher faith in 
Christ than this, and perhaps they did not believe even this. 

/. But Martha expressed not only this, but more ; for when she had 
said, " If thou hadst been here, my brother had not died/' she added, 
" I know that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will 
give it thee." Her first expression was faith that Christ could work a 
scientific miracle; the second was that of faith that he could also work 
a creative miracle, and raise the dead. 

g. Both the centurion and Martha believed that at Christ's command the 
forces and elements of nature would combine and energize to do his bidding. 

h. But Martha believed more ; she believed that in obedience to his 
mandate the dead and decayed body could be restored, and the soul 
itself called back to inhabit it ; and that thus he could wield creative 
power and work a creative miracle. 



PERSONALITY. 689 



Abe Miracles Probable. 

a. We conclude, therefore, that all miracles, whether scientific or 
creative, are in harmony with the laws of nature, and are events prob- 
able and to be expected at the hands of God in making himself known, 
carrying on his government, and promoting the salvation and the well- 
being of his rational creatures in the universe. \ 
• b. God created the world by miracle. He created man a rational 
soul, in his own image, by miracle. 

c. And since man, as a free, affectional, rational, and ethical soul, is 
a miraculous being, that is, a spiritual being, and not a mere pai't of 
nature ; — 

d. And since the government of God, who is a spirit, over rational 
souls, who are spirits, is of necessity a spiritual, that is, a miraculous 
government ; — 

e. And since the erfd for which God made nature, and administers it, 
is the good of man as a spiritual being ; — 

f. Therefore the conclusion is inevitable, that, in a world created by 
miracle, peopled by miracle, and with miraculous beings, — a world 
governed by miracle, and for supernatural ends, — miracles must be 
things both natural and on occasion to be expected. 

g. The presumption of nature, providence, and grace is, therefore, 
in favor of miracles, and their credibility and reality are prima facie 
true and reliable. 

h. That the God who made nature and her laws, her forces and her 
machinery, should be able to wield that machinery, and use those forces, 
or to create new ones, is precisely the thing to be expected. God's in- 
terference with nature for the effecting of his own ends is the pre- 
established order of the universe, and in entire harmony with all nature 
and all science. 

F. 

What is the Office of a Mibacle ? 

a. Its office is twofold. The first and smallest use of a miracle is 
to do the specific thing involved in it for the particular end sought ; 
as Christ produced bread for the hungry in the desert, and as God sent 
manna in the wilderness. 

b. The second and greater end, of a miracle is to. show the existence, 
truth, power, grace, and authority of God. 

87 



690 AUTOLOGY. 

G. 

IEas God ceased to work Miracles in this World ? 

a. The reply is, that only that kind of the scientific miracle is -still 
performed by the Deity which consists in controlling nature, and co- 
operating with the minds and efforts of men by his spirit and power for 
the achievement of the ends of government and salvation. 

b. These miracles are wrought constantly by the good God, both 
from his own unasked wisdom and love, and also in answer to prayer. * 

H. 

But if it be asked why God does not still work Miracles for the 
Proof of his Being and the Truth of his Gospel ? 

a. We reply, that all such miracles are mere letters of introduction, 
and lose their force when once used — for all letters of introduction must 
themselves ultimately be attested by the actual result which they promise. 
If experiment gives us that result, then the letter of introduction is of no 
more use ; if, on the contrary, experience fails of the result, or gives an 
opposite one, then the letter of introduction is of no more force or value, 
for a higher evidence has shown it mistaken or false. 

b. The same is true of a miracle. Miracles have already done all 
that which as testimony they can do in attestation of God and the 
gospel. The truth and the gospel must now stand on their own merits. 
Both the being of God and the truth of the gospel now stand on the 
testimony of experience, which is a higher order of testimony than that 
of miracles. Miracles are of no more value as proofs of God's being, 
work, or truth, because men now have practical, experimental, and his- 
torical evidence of these things which prove the truth both of the miracles 
and of the thing which they testified to. 

SECT. II. PRAYER. 



Is the Answer to Prater in Harmony with the Laws of Nature and 
with the Predeterminations of God ? 

a. Assuredly, if God, as a free, affectional, rational, and ethical per- 
son, having in himself spirit, life, and force, absolutely infinite and in- 
finitely absolute in all things, can, as the author and the true dynamic 
force of the universe, work miracles either creative or scientific, without 
violating nature not only, but by using the forces of nature and in 
entire harmony with them, then indeed can he answer prayer in the 



PERSONALITY. 691 

same way ; for every answer to prayer is either a creative or a scientific 
miracle. 

b. God answers prayer by a creative miracle when he creates a new 
object or force which did - not exist before, lie answers prayer by a 
scientific miracle when he co-operates with nature and with men in 
achieving a result. 

c. For the most part, prayer is answered by scientific miracles ; that is, 
by a divine interposition co-operating with, exciting, controlling, and em- 
ploying the laws and forces of the mind or of nature already in existence. 

d. This is done by the Holy Spirit influencing the minds of men or 
employing the laws and forces of nature. In so doing, God can stir the 
heart of a Paul or a Luther, a Wesley or an Edwards. lie can raise up 
a Cyrus or a Caesar, a Bonaparte or a Washington ; or he can send cold 
or heat, drought or storm, rain, sunshine, and fruitful seasons. He can, 
if need be, command the sun to stand still in the heavens, to rise at 
midnight, or to go down at noon ; and all in harmony with nature and 
her laws. And all this he will do if he sees best ; and it is proper to 
pray for these things when we believe occasion requires it. 

B. 

Laws of Nature. 

a. But would not this violate the laws of nature ? No ; for to control 
nature, and employ its forces and laws for our own purposes, is not to 
violate those laws, nor to annul those forces. 

b. The sailor who employs compass and sail, and helm, to bring a 
ship and cargo to a desired port, does not violate, but simply uses the 
laws of nature for his purpose. 

c. The engineer who manages a steam engine does not violate, but 
wields the laws of nature. The farmer who plants and cultivates, the 
mechanic or machinist who builds houses, mills, machines, and factories, 
all manage and turn to their own account the forces and laws of nature. 

d. So God, in answering prayer, can enlarge, control, shift, and vary 
the great engine of nature for the accomplishment of his purposes. 

C. 

Unchangeableness. 

1. a. But could God answer prayer without changing his own prede- 
termined plans, and so changing them as to show imperfection in his 
knowledge, wisdom, and power? 

b. In answering this question, we must not lose sight of God's per- 
sonal nature, but remember that God is a free, affectional, rational, ethical 



692 AUTOLOGY. 

person, having in himself spirit, life, and force, and is absolutely infinite 
and infinitely absolute in all things : now as such a being God's un- 
changeableness consists in his moral character, and in nothing else. 

c. He is bound by nothing but moral obligation and natural necessity ; 
that is, the word changeable has no significance whatever in relation to 
anything else in the nature of God. 

d. God is unchangeable in moral principles, in rectitude, in wisdom, in 
holiness, in love, in power ; these never change. God is always holy, 
always just, always good, full of benevolence, and full of wisdom, and 
full of power ; he never will, he never can, change in these aspects ; 
but in nothing else is he bound, but is as free as he is holy and almighty. 

2. a. God rules the universe, both physical and rational, in the inter- 
ests of human souls, and the righteousness, virtue, and love which are 
essential to their welfare. 

b. He therefore has no need to change his rectitude, holiness, or love, 
in order to answer the prayers that are offered by his creatures, for the 
furtherance of these great and worthy ends. 

3. a. Nothing is a legitimate subject of prayer" except that which is 
right, and wise, and good in itself, and in all its tendencies. 

b. And therefore the answer to any such prayer would not change or 
compromise any wisdom, holiness, or love of God ; for the prayer, and 
the wisdom, holiness, and love of God, would seek the self-same end. 

4. a. Prayer does not seek to change God, but man ; it does not seek 
to oppose God's laws or plans, but to conform the heart of man to them ; 
it does not seek to change nature's laws, but to employ them for a 
benevolent purpose. 

b. God will be sought unto to save men, and to control and use nature 
for moral and religious purposes ; and in answering prayer he does not 
change principles, nor any of the rules of rectitude. He does not seek 
to change the laws of nature or of the mind, but he will control, operate 
and manage, quicken or retard, any or all of them for his own great 
moral ends of government and of salvation. 

c. While God himself is unchangeable, in holiness, rectitude, and love, 
he can change men's unholiness, unrighteousness, and hate, into holiness, 
rectitude, and love, and that without changing those properties in him- 
self: therefore he can hear and answer prayer for these ends. 

D. 

FOREKNOWLEDGE. 

a. But does not the foreknowledge of God necessarily bind, set- 
tle, and fix beforehand all acts of men, and all results of human conduct, 
and thus preclude both the pertinence and the efficacy of prayer? 



PERSONALITY. 693 

b. The answer is, that God does not form his plans and predeter- 
mine his acts from foreknowledge, but creates his foreknowledge from 
his own predetermination. God's foreknowledge is derived from the 
entities and events which he first determines shall exist. 

E. 

Predetermination. 

a. But does not the predetermination of God either make prayer 
useless or the answer to prayer impossible ? 

b. We reply, that the predeterminations of God are the product of 
his own free will, and are made in behalf of free wills. By them ho has 
predetermined the existence of free wills, and determined that free wills 
shall have and exercise their freedom in working out their own destiny 
for good or evil. 

c. Therefore no predetermination of God can interfere with the 
freedom which he has already predetermined and created, with which he 
has endowed man, and which he has predetermined man shall exercise. 

d. And if no predetermination can be made against man's freedom, 
then certainly there can be no foreknowledge that is contrary to it. 

e. Neither predetermination nor foreknowledge, therefore, can interfere 
with God's freedom, nor with man's freedom ; therefore man can offer 
and God can answer prayer unhindered by either. 

/. God can act at all times as wisdom, rectitude, and love demand ; 
he will not do wrong ; the judge of all the earth will do right ; he will 
not violate truth, nor love, nor holiness, nor good and benevolent things : 
in these he is unchangeable. 

g. But he is at full liberty to do anything which these require, un- 
bound by any foreknowledge, or foredecree, or anything else ; nothing 
can prevent God from doing "righteously and lovingly. 

h. And it is always righteous, and loving, and pure, to bring sin- 
ners to repentance ; to change their hearts, and to inspire them to useful 
lives, and to forgive their sins. He has never bound himself by any 
decree, nor is he withheld by any foreknowledge from doing these things. 

F. 

When will God answer Prater ? 

a. God, in answer to prayer, will co-operate by a scientific miracle 
with ordinary means, faithfully used for an ordinar}' end of either private 
or public good;. And he will interfere by a greater and more marked 
scientific miracle, or by a creative miracle when in his own wisdom and 
love he deems. the occasion demands it. 

6. The rule, however, of providence is, that no end is to be expected 



694 AUTOLOGY. 

without the means, and that Gcd will not do by his • interference what 
men have power themselves to do. Not even a scientific miracle is to be 
expected when we can reach the end without it. 

c. Science, skill, industry, and perseverance are to be relied on by 
men for all results within the reach of scientific principles and agents. 

d. Yet prayer for divine co-operation is ever both pertinent and 
proper, even in using the machinery and appliances of science and of 
skill ; for God can work with us, and double our effectiveness by his 
Spirit and the co-operation of his providence. 



SECT. III. PROVIDENCE. 



Is there an- Overruling Providence ? 

a. We should certainly expect that a God who is a free, volitional, 
affectional, rational, and ethical person, having«in himself spirit, life, and 
force, absolutely infinite and infinitely absolute in them all, and who had 
actually created a world and peopled it with rational beings, would 
exercise over it a wise, righteous, and loving superintendence and con- 
trol, both for the good of his creatures and the glory of his own name. 

b. And especially we should expect that a personal God, who is 
the true dynamic power of the universe, and the ultimate fact of science ; 
who can work all manner of creative and scientific miracles ; who can 
hear and answer prayer, and do all in harmony with himself, with man, 
and with nature, — would most certainly have and exercise a wise, be- 
nevolent, and effective superintendence over the whole rational and 
material universe, and direct all things to his own worthy ends. 

g. We should expect such a God to act, and that in his works of 
creation and providence, and redemption, he would make revelation, 
exposition, and embodiment of himself. 

d. We should expect his works to exhibit spirit, life, and force ; spirit 
as in man, life as in the animal world, and force as in nature. 

e. And we should expect that inanimate nature would be made to 
subserve the ends of .animal life, and that both animate and inanimate 
nature would be designed and employed for the benefit of man. 

/. We should expect to find in man free will, affectum, intellect, and con- 
science, all forming one personality, having spirit, life, and force in himself. 

g. We should expect that man, as a created personality, in the image 
of God, would have a career to run, an end to achieve, and a character 
to form. 

h. We should expect that the highest excellence would be not created 



PERSONALITY. 695 

but acquired excellence, obtained by effort, self-denial, experience, faith- 
fulness, well-doing. 

i. Wo should expect to find self-subduing, and the defeat of self, the 
greatest victory ; and self-forgetting the strongest self-assertion. 

j. Yet we should expect that among a race of finite souls there 
would be error. 

k. And we should expect, in a world full of separate individuals, there 
would be competition, conflict, struggle, pain, wrong. 

I. We should expect the whole creation and providence of God, with 
all their forms of being and life, to be conceived, created, and conducted 
according to the most perfect wisdom, love, and power. 

m. We should expect such a God to have a wise and benevolent end 
in his works, and that he would watch over them and carry out and ac- 
complish that end by appropriate means. 



Proofs of a Providence. 

a. That there is the natural anticipation of a providence in the rational 
mind is found as a fact in the history of the world so far as it is known. 

b. Intelligent, well-wishing, effective, and good men, in all ages, have 
believed that the history of the world, when rightly understood, would 
show that an'aimighty Father had ordered all its events in wisdom, love, 
and power. 

c. That God rules the world in the interest of virtue, and for the 
good of men, is the deep and ineradicable faith of mankind. 

d. That he so rules is proven by the fact that the world, during all its 
history, has actually made progress in intelligence, in personal morality, 
in the industrial arts, in social life, in law, justice, government ; in religion 
and learning, in philosophy and science ; in the mastery of nature, in the 
pursuits of trade and commerce- — in short the race advances perpetually 
in all forms of civilization, and virtue, and manhood. 

e. Now, the argument is, that this result would not have been reached 
if a wise and benignant Providence had not watched over, checked, con- 
trolled, and overruled all things for the good of men. 

0. 
But what is Providence ? 
a. Providence is the superintendence, direction, and control which the 
paternal and infinite God exercises over men and over the universe, 
bringing them into harmony with each other and with his own nature 
without infringing upon theirs,' thereby working out certain great and 
good ends of his own. 



696 . AUTOLOGY. 

b. This providence is consequently both positive and negative ; i. e., 
determinative and permissive. The first is the direct purpose and intent 
of God ; • the second is his regard for the freedom of men and the laws 
of nature. 

c. Providence is administered according to the one law of divine 
wisdom and love. Yet it stops at the free will of man, and bows before 
the laws of nature. Providence cannot force the free action of men, nor 
excuse nor supersede the individual effort indispensable to the securing 
of their own well-being ; and as a rule, he will not interfere with the 
necessary laws of nature. 

d. The great end of providence and grace is the excellence of rational 
souls, and the divine glory thence arising. For the accomplishment of 
this end man must be brought up to the rule of divine rectitude in his 
conduct, and to the standard of divine holiness in his heart. 

e. These ends can be reached only through man's own instrumen- 
tality and co-operation. They are, therefore, to be sought upon the basis 
and in accordance with the faculties of the mind and the laws of nature. 

/. Hence, in renovating and governing men, God seeks to make 
them work out their own salvation according to the laws of the mind 
and of the nature of things. The appliances of grace and of providence 
are in co-operation with the faculties of the mind and the laws of nature, 
helping, quickening, strengthening, and enabling them, but never violat- 
ing or superseding them. 

g. The method and appearance of such a providence of God over 
man and nature would often seem self-contradictory when viewed 
from the stand-point of man ; and this for the reason that God requires 
the good, for their own sake, and for the sake of any good cause which 
they may seek to further, to act always on right principles and with 
right means, and to promote and build up that which is right*and good 
in accordance with the nature of the mind and the nature of things. 

h. He would have all good things stand on their own merits, and 
become good and great by their own native force and law of growth. 
Therefore, in the administration of his providence he will not promote 
good things by miracle, to the superseding or the detriment of natural 
and mental forces. 

i. Hence men who think a good cause ought to be promoted by divine 
providence, should not forget that God requires, first, their own best 
efforts ; second, that the work proceed according to the laws of the mind 
and of nature. 

j. And they must not forget that if God regards the good cause as 
of less moment in the universe than the maintenance of the laws of 
the mind and of nature in that particular case, he will let it fail, and let 
the guilt thereof fall on the delinquent. 



PERSONALITY. 697 

k. God will let the lesson of the indispensableness of using faithfully 
all appropriate means for a good end, and the lesson that no good thing 
can be built up in. any way save in harmony with its own inherent laws, 
be thus expensively taught. 



Is an Overruling Providence in Harmony with the Attributes of God, 
the Faculties of Man, and the Laws of Nature ? 

a. The answer to this question is, that providence in its rulings re- 
spects all these things, — viz., God, man, nature, — and hence is in harmony 
with them all, in that it does not force nor violate any of them, but rec- 
ognizes the peculiarities of each, and seeks the harmony of the whole. 

b.. The reason why providence is dark, inexplicable, and often enigmat- 
ical to men, is, that it must proceed ever in relation to the laws of three 
different styles of being; viz., first, God; second, man; third, nature. 

c. God rules according to his own infinite wisdom and power. Yet 
he regards, and must regard, the free will of man, his rights and obliga- 
tions, as a person ; and the unvarying laws of nature. 

d. The ways of providence in governing the universe are doubtless, in 
themselves, simple and plain in the apprehension of the Divine mind, but 
to the understandings of men they often seem complicated, and are in 
fact unsearchable. Man sees but one reason — God a thousand. 

e. Man views all things from his own point of observation, and makes 
himself the law of the universe, while God seeks to harmonize hetero- 
geneous natures, and bring them all under the rule of wisdom, rectitude, 
and loye, and to make them all subserve the same great, moral, and 
spiritual ends. 

f. We conclude, therefore, that there is a providence in diligent and 
benevolent exercise over the world, and that that providence is in har- 
mony with all the attributes of God, the faculties of man, and the laws 
of nature. 

g. We conclude also that, as a rule, providence is co-operative, and not 
creative ; that it seeks its ends rather by stirring and enabling man to 
work them out through the agents of the mind and of nature than by 
any such interference as would take the place of the agency of man or 
the ordinary working of nature's laws. 



698 AUTOLOGY. 



CRITICAL APPENDIX. 



CHAPTER I. — MAN, GOD,- NATURE. 

a. The history of philosophy is but another name for the philosophy of 
history. Philosophy alone gives the cause and marks the eras of real 
progress in the world. There may be change, but there can be no history 
which is not produced by the force and working of philosophic prin- 
ciples. That which makes history is efficient cause, and that cause is 
the subject-matter of philosophy, and can be fully known only by it. 

b. The first great cause is personal, and therefore is a free cause and 
an author ; this free, personal cause and author can be known only 
through a personal effect ; that effect is man. This is the autology and 
the philosophy of this book. 

c. In coming to the history of philosophy from this starting-point, we 
apprehend most clearly that it cannot consist of a mere biography of 
men, a contents of books, or an inventory of opinions. There can be no 
intelligent reading of the history of man, or of philosophy, without a 
knowledge of first principles. We do not know the worth of our own 
opinions, nor the true value of those of another, until we bring them all 
alike to the same standard of generic and comprehending principles. 

d. The subject-matter of knowledge must ever be the same to all 
minds. The things to be known do not vary. Every system of philoso- 
phy, therefore, must in some way comprehend the same things. The things 
known may be brought together in different relations, or under different 
names, but no system can be complete that does not include them all. 

e. Man, God, nature, are the three great angles of being and of knowl- 
edge ; any and all systems of philosophy must of necessity include them 
all, or be incomplete. They form a triangle ; and as this triangle, what- 
ever its shape may be, must always and inevitably include and amount, (in 
the sum of its angles,) to two right angles, so must every true philosophy 
of necessity touch these three points, and include them and their relations. 

/. The manhood of man is the true starting-point of all knowledge, 
and consequently the first angle of being. The manhood of man consists 
in his personality, and this personality is the only proof of a personal 
God. If, therefore, man in starting his inquiries, abandons his own angle 



ArPENDIX. 699 

of being he thereby denies his own personality, and puts it out of his 
power to find a personal God and an author of nature. 

g. Moreover man always identifies himself with his starting-point. If, 
therefore, he starts with God's angle, he makes himself God, and travels 
to nature's angle, but has no man's angle to go to ; and consequently he 
can make no triangle at all, but has only God and nature in correlation, 
and is therefore a transcendentalist. 

h. If, on the other hand, he starts at nature's angle, he identifies him- 
self with nature, and travels to God's angle, but can make no triangle, 
for he has no man's angle to go to ; consequent!}' he holds God in corre- 
lation with nature, and is a pantheist. And both these methods result, 
whatever the intent of the author may be, in a necessary atheism. 

i. There can be no manhood unless man has his angle, and has it 
first in the great triangle of being, and that as the starting-point of 
all knowing. There can be no Godhood unless God has his own 
angle of being, and that, as the first, point to which man travels when 
starting from his own. There can be no divine authorship of nature 
except as its own angle is given to nature in the great triangle of being ; 
nor can man ever find out nature as created by God unless he first knows 
himself, and from himself knows God, and then from God goes to nature, 
and so back to himself, completing the whole. 

j. All systems of philosophy are true or false as they embrace or reject 
the fact and the method of findiug these angles. Nor will any system 
embrace them, nor can it embrace them in their distinction and true 
relation, except as it shall begin with man, and first go to God, and 
thence to nature, and then come round again to man. By this illustra- 
tion we mean to show that all philosophy must of necessity embrace all 
these points, or fail to be a true and complete philosophy. 

k. Not only must we start from man in order to find God, but the 
personality of man must be fully made out. The great battle " God, or 
no God " is to be "fought out on this line." Not over a reptile or a 
force, not over a cell or protoplasm, but over man is the question, " Is 
there a God?" to be contested and decided. 

I. And unless man has in himself essential liberty and essential know- 
ingness, his manhood cannot be made out ; he can neither know any- 
thing nor do anything. He will not be a person but only a thing. 

in. He must be the originator of his own action and of his own know- 
ing, or be a mere mechanical part of nature. His action must begin in his 
own essential activity, and his knowing in his own essential intelligence. 

.n. These must combine to develop free will, affection, reason, and 
conscience, in order to. give him true liberty and true knowingness. 

o. A liberty that is merely alternative action is not liberty. A know- 
ing which is merely intelligent receptivity is no knowing. 



700 AUTOLOGY. 

p. True liberty is self-disposing, and true knowledge is self-seeing and 
self-comprehending. Without these nothing can be done or known, but 
man acts merely as acted upon, and knows as his mechanism is im- 
pressed. 

q. In this way alone can we know man, God, and nature, and in this 
way only can we understand the manhood of man, the Godhood of God, 
and the divine authorship of nature. 

r. With this view and comprehension of the ground before us, and 
with these bold promontories and headlands mapping out the sea of 
being and the field of philosophy, we are prepared for the introduction 
of some more specific canons of criticism, and for an intelligent criticism 
of the works of authors, and for marking the points of progress in the 
history of thought, and for giving each theory its right estimation and 
place in the one great system of philosophy. 

s. From this view it is obvious that all philosophies are either the- 
istic or atheistic ; no other difference is really worth making, or worth 
regarding, for all the systems extant, from Thales to Spencer, belong 
to one or the other of these classes, and nearly all belong to the atheis- 
tic class — not that they profess atheism, but they of necessity involve 
atheism ; and this is true of every system extant that does -not begin 
with man, and from man go to God, and from God come to nature, and 
thence return to man, completing the triangle. 

t. This one universal standard of measurement, and this one rule of 
judgment, consigns almost the whole philosophy of the world to the side 
of the atheistic philosophy, although the larger part of the authors of 
them were theists, and meant by their system to defend and promote a, 
true theism. 

Note. — The Critical Appendix was carefully prepared, and intended to be a part of 
this work. It was hoped that it would, serve as an exemplification of the principles 
of the Autology, and afford the student the means of an intelligent beginning of the 
study of leading authors, and of the history of philosophy. The dimensions of the 
present volume are such as-to forbid the original design save at the expense and detri- 
ment of small type and crowded pages. It is, therefore, deferred for the present, 
and will appear hereafter in a volume by itself. 



CHAPTER II. — PRINCIPLES AND RULES. OF CRITICISM. 

This chapter contains a collection of such facts and ideas as are ele- 
mentary and generic, and adapted to assist in forming a judgment as to 
the truth of any system of mental science or philosophy. 



APPENDIX. 



•701 



CHAPTER III. — AUTHORS. 

This chapter contains an analysis of the principal work of each of the 
authors named below, on mental science or philosophy ; with criticisms 
according to the principles of this book. 



I. Pre-Socratic Authors. 



1. 


Thales. 


5. Pythagoras. 


2. 


The Eleatics. 6. Heraclitus. 


3. 


The Atomists. *7. Empedocles. 


4. 


Anaxagoras. 8. The Sophists, 






9. Critical Resume. 




II. 


Socrates. 




III. 


Plato. 




IV. 


Aristotle. 




V 


Augustine and Pelagius. 




VI. 


Anselm, Aquinas, and Scotus. 




VII. 


Calvin and Arminius. 




VIII. 


Bacon. 




IX. 


Descartes. 




X. 


Spinoza, Geulincx, Malebranche. 




XI. 


Hobbes. 




XII. 


CUDWORTH. 




XIII. 


Locke. 




XIV. 


Clarke and Butler. 




XV. 


Leibnitz and Wolf. 




XVI. 


Berkeley. 




XVII. 


Hume. 




XVIII. 


Edwards and Wesley. 




XIX. 


Reid, Stewart, and Brown. 




XX. 


Kant. 




XXI. 


FlCHTE, SCHELLING, AND HEGEL. 




XXII. 


Coleridge. 




XXIII. 


Maine De Biran. 




XXIV. 


Cousin. 




XXV. 


Comte. 




XXVI. 


Sir William Hamilton. 




XXVII. 


Herbert Spencer. 




XXVIII. 


Resume. 



V <* 



< * o , x * ■ \ 
- 



^ 









.$% 



y ' ^ < 






,0 o. 






. 



v o j 















^ v- . 






*- '^. v^ 












^ 









s 






</■> «v 






' 



V <h. 



*p 



"o N 




X ^ 



^ "%- 



^> - 












V 






%<? 



fv v x 



P. <# 







' <• ■ 



